


Stockholm Syndrome

by CastleAndMurdock



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Apologies, Betrayal, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Death, Deception, Destruction, Dialogue Heavy, Disturbing Themes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Everett Ross is fun to write, Expanded into Series, F/M, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, First Person Narrative, Guilt, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Kidnapping, Lies, Lima Syndrome, Loss, M/M, Mentions of Terrorism, Mistakes, Movie References, On the Run, Oops you fell in love with the bad guy, Other, POV First Person, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Female/Female Relationships, Post-Battle of Sokovia, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reader is an unnamed Avenger, Reader-Insert, Ross is a jerk, Sexual Tension, So many comic references, So many references to other films, Sokovia, Sokovian Reader, Stockholm Syndrome, Superpowered Reader, Sympathy, Talk of Suicide, Terrorism, Threats, Threats of Violence, Unresolved Emotional Tension, War, failure - Freeform, implied female reader, implied past relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastleAndMurdock/pseuds/CastleAndMurdock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate version of events for Civil War, in which you were a long time companion of Pietro and Wanda, and witnessed the horrors during the battle of Sokovia as an unofficial Avenger. </p><p>You spared Helmut Zemo's life in Siberia, and after relocating to New York with Wanda, Everett Ross informs you that Zemo will confess to his crimes, but only if he can talk to you first. Trying to stay under the radar to protect the Avengers still in hiding after the events of Civil War, you board a plane to Berlin to confront the captive terrorist. But things don't go exactly as Everett Ross planned, and you must fight for your life and the people you love, before Ross can hunt you down.</p><p> </p><p>CONTAINS SERIOUS CIVIL WAR SPOILERS</p><p>(Expanded into a full series upon request.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loss

He had completely driven us apart. There was a time when we all would have died for each other, stepped out in front of a bullet without a second thought. Because that was our job. Not death and destruction, not bringing harm to innocent people, or defying the laws put in place for their safety. We are protectors, _Avengers_. We put our lives on the line every single day to make sure innocent people are kept safe. We put our rare abilities to good use. Some of us were born with them, and some of us were forced to carry a curse. We have been experimented on, turned into weaponized lab rats for the personal agendas of people with too much power. Some of us chose this path to survive or to save those who we loved. We have strong differences, but we have one goal in common. Protect as many as we can, even if one of us falls in the process. We get up, shake off the dust and the blood and we keep moving, even if it tears us apart inside.

We've faced psychopaths and monsters and men hellbent on destruction. But _he_ wasn't a monster, or someone who wanted money, or power, or to just be evil for the sake of being evil. He was just a man who had been wronged, like the rest of us had been at some point in time. He wanted the truth and revenge and he just happened to be the most clever man in the room. He didn't dress up in a ridiculous costume and parade around for the entire world to see. Instead, he planted a time bomb and sat back in the shadows to watch us run blind into chaos. He had outsmarted us, cleverly found ways to turn even our most loyal and devoted allies against us. He was the earthquake that split the ground beneath us, causing us to decide which side of the crack in the earth to jump to for safety. I had to choose my side and I dealt with the consequences of my decision, losing the trust of my friends and family in the process.

And as I stood in the snow in silence, his gun pointed up at me, mine pointed down at him, neither of us were able to pull the trigger. I lowered my gun, letting it drop freely to the cold, wet ground. I surrendered my weapon because this was over. I could see the tiredness and exhaustion in his eyes. Zemo had succeeded. He had gotten his way and he was done. He kept his gun raised high, despite the obvious ache in his arm. He was stronger than any of us had given him credit for, and he was just an ordinary man. I could hear the others tearing each other apart from somewhere behind me, the war still raged on, though the mastermind was in checkmate in front of me. His hand shook as he tried to tighten his grip on the gun, the barrel aimed between my eyes.

I surrendered my weapon because he told me what happened to them, and how I had failed him. Whether it was a last ditch effort in an attempt for me to spare his life, or because he just wanted someone to listen, he confessed. Before he raised his weapon at me in the first place, he told me what happened. He told me why he had used us as pawns, why he had given us the matches we used to set fire to each other. I surrendered because I understood. I joined the Avengers because everything I loved had been taken and I had no where to go. I could have just as easily turned to the wrong side as he did. Maybe if there had been someone to listen to him, he wouldn't have gone down the wrong path. This wasn't something I had been trained for. I was supposed to fight and detain people like Zemo, sympathy just wasn't an option. Neither was guilt.

I raised my hands up as a sign of peace, his eyes locked onto mine. His arm finally gave out and he dropped his gun, letting his body rest into the cold ground.

"You should kill me." he said, his eyes closed, the exhaustion finally settled in. "After what I did to you, to them."

"I understand." I said, taking a step forward, my hands still raised. "I don't agree with what you did, Zemo. But I understand. I was in Sokovia when Ultron destroyed it. Please believe me when I say how sorry I am, we never meant to hurt anyone." I stepped over my gun as I approached him, his body lay motionless in the snow. "I'm not going to kill you."

"Why not?" he mumbled. "If you don't, I'll do it myself." I knelt down beside him. I picked up his gun and threw it back towards my own.

"We all lost someone that day. Some of us lost ourselves. I think you lost both..." I put my hand over his on the ground. "I lost both." I added softly. "I'll make sure you get a fair trial, but I won't forget what you did to us." Zemo's eyes opened, half-lidded, and he stared back at me.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" he asked, clearly confused.

"Because I should have done more in Sokovia, but I was compromised, distracted. People got hurt, killed, and I couldn't stop it. People that I cared about died. You should be at home right now with your family. But you're not, you're here and I am so sorry." Zemo was quiet, the war inside behind me had ceased, his icy hand wrapped around mine, squeezing it lightly. Perhaps it was his way of saying sorry, maybe it meant something more. Suddenly there was a clawed hand on my shoulder, softly nudging me aside. I hadn't even heard him walk up behind me. Zemo's hand slipped out of mine as T'Challa escorted him away. The King must have heard everything, because he led the criminal out in peace.

We will heal. We will shake off the dust, the blood, and the snow, and we will keep moving.


	2. Aftermath

I often wake up to the sound of his voice. His chest is against my back and his lips are at my ear. I can never make out the words, just the unmistakable sound of his voice, one that I thought I would never hear again. It coaxes me out of my dreams and demands to be heard, as the strong arm around my body demands to be felt. It's like we're back to normal, back in Sokovia. His steady breathing against my shoulders lures me into peace. But once my eyes open and I awake back to reality, he's gone again, Sokovia is still in ruins, and I am alone. I sometimes run to Wanda's room and, without waking her, I'll climb in bed beside her so I won't feel alone. His sister is a part of him, sometimes that's all I need to fall back to sleep. In the mornings she will either be gone before sunrise, or she will be sleeping soundly against my side, with her arm across my chest and a tight grip on my shoulder. But that was back when we lived at the compound.

Wanda hadn't been back with me for very long, a week or so. Her first night out of that cell was spent clutched tightly into my chest, as Steve flew us back home. The minute we were back in the city, she was collapsed in my arms, exhausted from the trip. Steve took us to one of Natasha's many hideout apartments, with her permission of course, and we had been there ever since. There's no way we could have gone back to the compound then, because I don't think Tony was ready to forgive us, not yet. He needed time, we _all_ needed time. Wanda and I spent that week in the apartment regrouping, trying to figure out who were still our friends, and who wasn't. Natasha would visit us every other day, bring us supplies that we needed, or some of our things from the compound that she could sneak past Tony and Vision. We quickly added her to our 'People We Can Trust' list.

At that point, the list consisted of seven people. Natasha ranked high, obviously, as she was keeping us out of Tony's radar. Steve was also very high on the list, if he had anything against us, he never would have taken us somewhere safe, or helped Wanda escape in the first place. Bucky, as we had been fighting for his freedom all along. T'Challa, though him watching me give sympathy to his father's killer might not have settled well with him, but I added him nonetheless. Scott, Clint and Sam had also made the list. As I was writing down the names, Wanda sat down on the couch beside me.

"I hope we can add more." she said quietly, a cup of coffee in her hands.

"At least there are more people _on_ the list than people who aren't on the list." I noted, as I set the pen and paper down on the table to my right. "I think it's only a matter of time before we can add more." Wanda smiled as she took a sip of coffee.

"I don't think I can stay here much longer," she whispered. "I'm tired of small spaces." The apartment wasn't the biggest, as it was only meant to house one person, and for short periods of time at that, in case Natasha needed a place to hide out for a few days. It was perfect for one person, not two grown women with abilities that suffered when kept in small spaces. "But you think I would be comfortable in cages by now." she added, staring down at her cup.

"You are never going to be caged again." I promised, putting my hand on her shoulder. "No one is going to be taken from me ever again." She nodded, trying not to look me in the eyes. A soft knock at the door diverted our attention away from our concerns. I stood up and walked to the door, checking the peephole first before opening it.

" _What did you do?_ " Natasha demanded angrily, barging past me. I closed the door so no one in the hallway could hear her. "Did you know that Everett Ross is on my ass because of you?" I followed her into the living room where Wanda had just set her coffee down.

"What does he want?" I asked, leaning against the door frame.

"He wants me to take you to see him, immediately." This wasn't the side of Natasha I had ever intended on pissing off. Maybe I had added her to the list too soon. "I'm tired of being the babysitter around here, ___."

"But what does he want with her?" Wanda asked defensively.

"Zemo isn't talking. He confessed to framing Barnes, but that's where he shut up. He told Everett that he'll only talk to you, and he hasn't spoken since, that was nearly a week ago." Natasha explained. "So what I want to know is, what did you do, ___? What did you say to Zemo when you were alone with him, before T'Challa took him into custody? Because apparently he only trusts you." Wanda looked up at me, a mixture of confusion and worry swirled in her eyes.

"I talked him down." I insisted. "I told him what he wanted to hear, I listened to him. I stopped him from killing himself so he could stand trial. That's it, Nat. I promise. If he wants to talk to me, I'll listen." Natasha sighed in frustration, one hand covering her face.

"I'm not letting you go." she said finally, giving me a glare that nearly froze me in place. "I'm not letting that terrorist monster anywhere close to you."

"Natasha-" I started.

"No." Natasha warned. "He's dangerous, and manipulative. I know you can handle yourself, but I'm drawing the line here." Her voice was on the razor's edge between calm and furious.

"I agree." Wanda added. "It's too risky."

"I know you were trying to help, to calm the situation before anyone else got hurt. But you have to let me handle this one." Natasha argued, as she headed back towards the door. "I'll tell Ross that I can't find you, I'll lead him away from the fact that you're hiding out with a wanted criminal, though." she looked over her shoulder at Wanda, before focusing back on me. "Stay out of this, please. I have enough stubborn kids to deal with right now, okay." The door slammed behind her. I could feel Wanda's cold eyes on me, I didn't dare turn to look at her.

"Were you going to tell me?" she asked quietly.

"That I'm the one who detained Zemo?" I replied.

"That you faced him alone." she corrected. "Natasha is right, he's dangerous and manipulative. He had a gun, ___. What did you have?" I turned to her.

"I had a gun too." I confessed, my voice raised, but not angry. "I know I'm not allowed to have one, but I did. I could have killed him if I wanted to."

"But you didn't." Wanda reminded me. " I'm glad he's been captured, and I am glad you did not have to kill him. But you could have used your abilities, made him suffer." That scared me, even coming from her. After all that had happened, after not wanting to hurt people, she dropped _that_ bomb. 

"I-I couldn't." I admitted, almost too ashamed to tell her the truth. I didn't want to bring her brother into this, not now. Now that she was emotionally healing from the explosion, and after being locked up. She had been through enough in such a short time. But she's _my_ sister now, and I couldn't keep it from her, she'd just get it out of me one way or another. "He lost people, in Sokovia." I said slowly, hoping that she'd understand without me having to say it, but the confused look on her face told me that she didn't. "He lost people close to him, like we did. So I dropped my gun, and I told him that I was sorry. T'Challa took him away, and then Steve brought me to you. That's what happened. So if Zemo wants to talk to me, I'll go. If it means that he goes away for what he's done, I'll help."

"Can I trust you enough not to get hurt?" Wanda asked. "Can you promise me?" I nodded furiously, running to her side as she pulled me tightly into her arms.

"I promise." I said, mumbling my words into her shoulder. She laughed nervously, almost sadly.

"Do you remember the blasts? When we were young?" she asked, her hand protectively held against my back.

"Yes," I answered.

"You were six years old, Pietro and I were ten. The rescue crew found us on the same day, they took us to the same hospital, then the same orphanage. The night we were going to escape, we could not leave without you. We took you with us because you were ours, you are still ours, ___." I couldn't hold back the flood of tears anymore, the memories rushed back to me. I remembered the crews pulling me out of the wreckage, seeing the twins for the first time across the street, covered in ash. They put us in a truck until they could get us to an ambulance. None of us were badly hurt on the outside, just cuts and bruises. But on the inside we carried wounds that could not heal, mental and emotional scars that would never go away. We watched our parents die, our homes destroyed. I felt a wave of panic wash over me, this must have been exactly how Zemo felt that day. When we inadvertently ruined everything.

I remembered a doctor, she sewed up a cut on my arm, where I still have a small scar to this day. The twins walked past the open door of the room I was in, followed by a nurse who ushered them forward. I was scared of the needle, but Pietro smiled at me when he passed by, and the fear went away. The same nurse came for me a few minutes later, and took me to the room where they and a few other kids were being kept until they could find a place for us to go, it was called the orphan room. I wouldn't talk to anyone, I was scared and my arm hurt. But Wanda noticed, and she sat down beside me, she held my hand. That night we were taken to an orphanage. We were separated by age, the twins were taken to the left wing, and I was taken to the right. They couldn't stand the place, none of the children were treated well, so they planned their escape.

They took me with them, Pietro made sure of it, and we lived on the streets until we were old enough to work. I was nineteen when he first kissed me. It was during a protest, the police were chasing us and we had been separated from Wanda in the sea of angry people. We hid in an alleyway, out of breath, but laughing. I leaned against the alley wall so I could catch the air back into my lungs. Pietro took my face in his hands and he kissed the breath right out of me again. Police sirens wailed in the distance, people screamed, desperate for their voices to be heard, so changes could be made. But his arms caged me against the wall, his soft lips were finally pressed to mine and all the noise drowned out, the sound cutting away from my ears like the world was on mute. We had two years like this, of us, and Wanda. Like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. But he was taken from us, like Zemo's loved ones had been taken from him. And it was my job to make it right.

I pulled away from Wanda, after pressing a kiss to the side of her head. I left her on the couch with her cold coffee, as I slipped into the bathroom. I pulled my phone from my pocket, along with a business card I had hidden under the phone case. I dialed the number, sat on the edge of the tub and I waited.

"You've reached the office of Everett Ross of the JCTC, how may I help you today?" the voice of a young woman asked. I planned on keeping the call short, just in case someone was trying to track the signal. I couldn't have them finding Wanda, after all, this was my mission, not hers.

"My name is ___ ___, I believe Mr. Ross was looking for me." I said. The line went quiet, panic shot through me. I couldn't make a mistake now. Not one this stupid.

"Mr. Ross is...unavailable at the present time, may I set up a meeting for you?" the woman asked.

"Yes!" I answered quickly. "Any time will do."

"I can arrange a meeting tomorrow morning at 8AM, would that be alright?" the voice asked, as if she were computer operated.

"Yes, that's just fine." I agreed, trying to speed things up.

"I can also arrange for a helicopter pick up, where will you be arriving from?" I hesitated. The call had only lasted fifteen seconds at most, but I needed to end it. Now.

"The docks, on the far side of town." I replied. I heard computer keys clicking along on the other line.

"I have it all set up for you Miss ___, Mr. Ross awaits your visit." I thanked her and quickly hung up, breathing a sigh of relief as the call time stopped at twenty-nine seconds. I hid the business card back inside the phone case and returned to the living room. Wanda was washing out her coffee cup in the kitchen, she looked back at me and smiled.

"Did you call him?" she asked. "Ross?"

"Yes." I replied, bypassing the lie. "If Stark had apologized to us, back then, would it have made a difference?" She turned to face me, leaning back against the counter as she thought about it.

"It would not have changed anything, but I would have accepted the apology." she admitted.

"Then you understand why I have to go." I explained. She nodded slowly.

"Please," Wanda began, taking a deep breath before she continued. "Come back in one piece."


	3. The Flight

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Wanda asked, as I zipped up my duffel bag. It was five in the morning and she leaned sleepily against the door frame of the bedroom. It was colder than normal in the tiny apartment, and she had a red crocheted afghan wrapped around her shoulders. "You could always back out, you know."

"I know." I said, lifting the bag off of the bed. "But I have to do this." I softly nudged past her and walked into the living room. I set the bag down by the couch as I heard her follow along behind me.

"I will not stay in this place while you are gone." she playfully smarted off. "It's too small, I'll go crazy here alone." I chuckled and turned to her.

"Well, don't call Natasha to keep you company." I suggested. "Like she said, she has enough stubborn kids to deal with."

"She will kill you when she finds out where you've gone." Wanda warned. I shrugged, looking down at my bag.

"It's better to ask for forgiveness than for permission." I noted, my eyes meeting hers. She was smiling, but her eyes were painfully sad. Without a word, she walked over to me and wrapped the afghan around the both of us, holding me tightly against her chest. I could feel her warm tears against my shoulder, and the invisible sting of her sadness that fell with them. Was it my abilities that was causing her to feel like this? Or was she just that afraid of losing me? I wrapped my arms around her back, feeling how cold she was. She's always been susceptible to the cold, especially when we were kids. I remember times when Pietro would struggle just to keep her warm on winter nights. He learned how to build fires, and he taught me how when I was old enough not to get burned. Who would have guessed that _he_ would have been the one to burn me in the end. I held my older sister closer. If what I was about to do wasn't so important, I wouldn't have been able to leave her. This would be the longest I had ever been separated from her, since before the blasts when we were children. I didn't know how long Everett Ross would keep me in Berlin, but knowing him, it would be a while. I finally pulled away from Wanda's grasp, she gave me a quick kiss to the forehead before she let go. Her cold hand still rested on my shoulder, and it trailed down to hold my own hand. I picked up the duffel bag and heaved it onto my shoulder. She squeezed my hand, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Do what you have to do, and come home." she demanded sharply. "Just _come_ home."

"I will." I assured her. With that confirmation, her hand slowly left mine, the afghan dropped from my shoulders and I turned to the door.

"What do I tell them once they know you are gone, hmm? Natasha. _Steve?_ " she inquired. I opened the door, not able to turn back to her now.

"Tell them that I'm getting closure."

~

The sky of New York was still dark overhead, as I exited the apartment building. But the city was still lit up in neon as I walked through the bad parts of town towards the docks. I never specified which part of the docks I'd be waiting by, but I assumed a giant helicopter in the sky would be hard to miss. I passed by numerous drug dealers and old run down buildings and burned out liquor stores as I quietly made my way to my destination. I still had two and a half hours before my pick up, so I foolishly walked slow to kill some time. I was so intent on getting to the docks, I never saw the man pop out of the alley until it was too late. There was suddenly just a knife in my face and a hand wrapped painfully tight around my wrist. He quickly pulled me into the alley he came from and shoved me against the wall. My first thought wasn't that I was being attacked by a madman with a knife, or that with one wrong move I could easily die, so close to home, all of this would have been for nothing. I would have failed Zemo again. No, my first thought was, _Last time I was in an alley like this, I didn't mind being shoved against a wall._ The man looked straight into my eyes, the creepy, disgusting grin on his face turned from malicious to intrigued in realization.

"Hey..." he began, shifting the knife around in his hand, still against my throat. "You're one of those Avenger freaks, aren't ya?" I nodded, the blade nudging along my skin.

"Yeah," I replied, a bit too feisty than I should have been, for the situation I was currently in. "And I think you should know better than to attack me." He pulled the knife back slightly, just to jab it crazily at my throat, missing me on purpose as a warning. "You know what I can do, don't make me hurt you." I think he took my words as a challenge, as his grip on my wrist tightened like a vice, the hand holding the knife was dead still. The second he tried to jab at me again, I wrapped my hand around his holding the knife and squeezed with all my might. The veins in his hand turned pale grey, as his skin followed suit. He screamed in agony as he dropped down slowly to his knees, the blade fell from his grasp and made a sharp metallic sound as it hit the pavement. His screams turned to silence as he knelt to the ground on his knees, dazed out of his mind, his grip on my wrist released, the skin of his arm a dark, decayed looking grey. I wasted no time getting the hell out of there, running the rest of the way to the docks.

I hid out behind a stack of wooden crates until ten minutes before eight, as I kept the time by looking at my phone. Thankfully I had run to the desolate area of the docks, because I seemed to be the only person around, though I could hear men working several yards North of me, far enough out of my way. At eight sharp, a loud whirring noise could be heard and the helicopter appeared as if it were magic. I ran out to it as it landed carefully in a large open space on the dock, the rapid moving blades made the water around it choppy and wild. A man stepped out into the cold air as I approached. Everett Ross held his hand out to me, as his eyes scanned my face in the early light, probably trying to remember if he had met me before. He had, but I wasn't important then.

"Miss ___, I presume?" he asked loudly over the roar of the helicopter; his handshake was firm, professional. I nodded as my hair whipped around my head.

"Yes sir, Mr. Ross." I said.

"Would you please come with me." he suggested, not forming it as a question. He led me to the door and allowed me to climb in first, without his assistance, and he followed me inside. He slipped a headset over my ears as I set my bag in my lap. Once he had put on his own headset, we slowly began to rise into the sky. "We will be making our way to a private airport, and from there we will head to Berlin." he informed me. The ride was thankfully short, as the roaring engine so close to my ears was starting to give me a headache. We landed beside an airstrip about twenty minutes later, where we boarded a small airplane. An attendant took my bag as Ross led me up the stairs and inside the plane. It was a private jet, a very nice private jet, possibly his own, or one that belonged to the JCTC. I followed him to the seating area as we sat across from each other, a window between us. There was a folder on Ross's seat, and he picked it up before sitting down. Sunlight poured through the window, as Ross checked something on his phone before turning his attention back to me. "We'll be arriving in about eight hours," he said, clicking his phone off. "Get comfortable." I leaned back in my seat and stared out the window. We quickly took off, and just as my eyes were starting to flutter close, Ross slammed the window's shutter down. I jumped awake at the sound. "Shall we get right down to business?"

"What do you want to know?" I asked, struggling to keep my eyes open after the rough morning spent on the docks. Ross pocketed his phone and crossed one leg over the other. He gave me a condescending smile, a reminder of who was in charge here.

"Is is true that you detained Colonel Zemo?" he asked. "T'Challa mentioned that _he_ was the one who apprehended the target, and I have no reason to believe that the king of Wakanda would lie to me." he added smugly. His accent was starting to annoy me. Everett Ross is your typical rude American with too much power on his hands, thought the world was built just for him.

"It's true." I admitted. His eyes showed signs of surprise, a glimmer of _Maybe I'm not as important to the Panther as I think I am_ , but it was quickly replaced with his arrogance again. "King T'Challa was only trying to protect me, he thought it would be best if he brought Zemo into custody. He thought I would get hurt."

"Did you believe that Zemo would hurt you?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I had disposed of his gun, and he is just a man. I had no reason to believe that I was in any danger."

"You are superpowered, is that correct?" he asked, already damn well knowing the answer. He flipped open the folder and studied it carefully, pulling a pen from his suit pocket.

"Yes." I replied.

"Abysmal Dissociation," he read from the folder. "The temporary or permanent numbing of one's life force. You're capable of killing the mind, taking away the will to live, leaving trails of depression and sorrow in your path. Have you ever numbed someone so far that you killed them?" he asked accusingly, his eyes flashing up to look at me.

"No." I answered truthfully. He nodded as if in disbelief, but let it go. He started tapping the pen against the arm rest.

"You are a resident of Sokovia?" he asked, returning his gaze to the folder.

"Yes," I replied. "I have dual Sokovian and American citizenship, thanks to Mr. Stark." He smiled fondly at the name, certainly someone he had to kiss ass to at one point in his career, otherwise he probably wouldn't be here.

"And your sister as well?" he added, dropping dead silent, the pen went still.

"Yes," I agreed, not missing a beat. "Mr. Stark has taken good care of us."

"Do you know the current whereabouts of Miss Maximoff?" I gave him a fake look of ignorance, a sad shake of my head.

"I have not seen my sister since before Siberia." I lied, hopefully convincing enough. I looked down at my lap, and thought of the saddest things I could to make myself cry. I thought about leaving Wanda behind in New York, the scolding she would receive when Natasha returned. I let the tears fall as I thought about my sister, but I could not think about her brother. Ross nodded, ignoring my emotional distress. He seemed to be uncomfortable around crying women, his man pain may have saved my life. He resumed the pen tapping as he moved on with his questions and I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Did you feel sympathetic toward Helmut Zemo? Is that why you spared his life?" he asked without looking at me.

"I felt sorry for him, yes. But it did not factor into my decision. I simply detained him, that was my job."

"Did you use your...abilities on him? When you detained him?"

"No." I replied quickly. "There was no need." Ross seemed to accept my answers without any problems.

"Why did you say it was your job to detain Zemo?"

"I was trying to prove the innocence of my ally, James Barnes. There was more than enough evidence to prove that he was innocent, but it was unfortunately destroyed in Siberia. Zemo confessed to framing him for the crimes, did he not?" Ross nodded, the pen tapped.

"Do you know the whereabouts of Captain Steve Rogers?"

"No."

"Do you know the whereabouts of James Barnes?"

"No."

"How did you get back?" he nearly snapped, his eyes dead set on mine.

"From where?" I asked, my retort dripped with false ignorance.

"How did you get back from Siberia? You weren't with Stark. You claim to not know where Rogers or Barnes are. I don't recall you being with T'Challa when he delivered Zemo. If you _were_ there, then how did you get back to New York?" I froze. I hadn't expected him to ask that, so of course he did. I quickly tried to ease myself into staying calm.

"I _was_ with T'Challa." I lied, obviously not able to tell the truth, otherwise I'd give up Steve. "He dropped me at an airport, before he delivered Zemo to you. Like I said, he was just trying to protect me."

"Why you?"

"I don't know. I comforted him after King T'Chaka was murdered, maybe that had something to do with it." He stared me down for a few more seconds, then his eyes dropped back to the folder.

"What airport did he drop you at?" he asked, resuming his string of boring questions.

"Somewhere in Poland? I'm not sure, it was all a blur I am afraid." He stopped tapping the pen and used it to check something off in the folder.

"Why did you decide to spare Helmut Zemo's life?" I needed to be careful with this one. If I told him Zemo's family had been killed in Sokovia, then my allies and friends would be put in danger, after all, it was our fault they were dead.

"I didn't see a reason for him to die. I am not a killer. Yes, Zemo is a terrorist, and he caused the deaths of innocent people, but he deserves a fair trial, not a death sentence-"

"And your meeting with Zemo in Siberia was the first time you had met?" Ross interrupted. I nodded. "I need your verbal response." he scolded.

"Yes, I had never met him before." Ross smiled his sickly smile.

"We're almost done, Miss ___. Then you may enjoy the rest of the flight. Just one more question..." he trailed off as he jotted something down behind the cover the folder provided.

"Were you sleeping with your own brother? Before he died?" he taunted, the smugness of his smile tied my stomach into knots.

"Pietro was _not_ my brother." I corrected him.

"Oh? You consider Miss Maximoff your sister, but not Mr. Maximoff as your own brother?"

"It is complicated." I hissed, my Sokovian venom seeping into my words.

"It sure is." he chuckled to himself, ticking a few boxes off in the folder.

"And none of your business." I added. His smile faded, the pen dropped to his lap. His face twisted into a crazed smile.

"Everything you do is my business. Everything you say, everything you think, every secret that you have. While you're in _my_ custody, I fucking own you. You are under lock and key unless I say otherwise, do you understand? You are _my_ business. You take one step out of line, I'll know. You defy me in any way, I'll know. There's no point in watching your own back, Miss ___, because every eye I have is already on you. Is that clear?" I hadn't realized how tightly I was gripping the arm rests until he stopped talking. If I had been any stronger they would have shattered to pieces in my clutches. Ross's glare bore holes into me, the intense icy stare of a predator waiting for its wounded prey to die so it can strike.

"Very clear, sir." I replied, my accent now more Americanized to appease him, for now. The smile returned to normal, the pen was retrieved, and he tapped away against the arm rest.

"Good, I was afraid you were starting to forget your place, but I'm glad we're on the same page again." He glanced over the file once more before closing it. He lifted the window's shutter, allowing the morning light to shine through once more. "You are here for one reason, talk to Zemo, get him to tell you what he won't tell us. I'm not sure what kind of special bond you have, but it's cute, as long as I get my answers and get a terrorist on death row."

"Death row?" I asked.

"Well of course," he chuckled. "That _is_ where terrorists belong, don't you agree?" I kept quiet, already tired of being in his holy presence. "Enjoy the rest of your flight, Miss ___. Only seven more hours to go."

~

The plane landed on a private airstrip in Berlin late into the night. I was exhausted, not only from the eight hour flight, but being on an eight hour flight with Everett Ross. I refused to sleep while alone with him, though my eyelids were so heavy I could have passed out soundly at any given moment. To say that I didn't trust Everett Ross would be a large understatement. I stumbled off the plane, Ross just behind me, as the assistant from before appeared beside me with my bag. Ross led the assistant and I to a black SUV, where he opened the back passenger door for me. The assistant placed my bag in the hatchback as Ross climbed into the passenger's seat in front of me, leaving me the entire backseat to myself. The assistant mumbled something to Ross through the open window, nodded and walked back to the plane. There was already a driver in the SUV when we arrived and as soon as we were comfortably inside, he started it up and drove away from the airfield.

The drive was silent, it was probably the longest Ross had ever gone without speaking. We quickly made our way into the city, where the nightlife was glowing wildly, even past midnight. The SUV suddenly pulled in front of a very nice hotel and stopped just in front of the doors. Ross quickly got out and opened my door. I stepped out as Ross went around to the hatchback and retrieved my bag. He shoved it into my arms and motioned for me to follow him. I threw my bag over my shoulder and followed Ross to the front desk of the fancy hotel. He spoke to the man at the front desk in German, so I wouldn't overhear their conversation. He handed Ross a key card and a few documents and sent us on our way. Ross handed the key card to me as we neared the elevators, the documents were folded neatly and slipped into his suit pocket. He finally spoke once we were inside and the doors closed.

"While you're here, your name is Abigail Zoller. Your parents are German, but you were born and raised in Russia, which explains why you know very little German. You're here visiting, sightseeing, whatever you want to call it. You are to lay low, and by no means associate yourself with Sokovia or the Avengers, do you understand?" Ross instructed. I nodded.

"Yes, sir." I answered tiredly.

"If someone recognizes you as an Avenger, what do you say?"

"That I'm not an Avenger?" I asked smartly. He shook his head.

"You say, _No! I'm just here visiting my dear old Nana, her memory isn't like it used to be and she's in bad health, I have to go now!_ " he said, in the most horrific German accent I had ever heard. "Just lie, and make sure you keep up with them, getting you out of trouble isn't my problem, getting answers from a criminal is." The doors opened and Ross led me down a hallway of doors. He stopped at door number 168 and motioned for me to use my key card. I unlocked the door and let us both in. It was the nicest hotel room I had ever been in by far. But I was too tired to take much notice. I slung my bag down by the bed and tossed the key card on the dresser.

"Will I be speaking to him tomorrow?" I asked, walking over to look out the window at the beautiful German city. I heard Ross shift around behind me.

"First thing tomorrow morning. I'll send my assistant up to get you. Just, stay out of trouble. Once you get everything out of Zemo, I'm sending you straight back to New York." he replied.

"Good." I answered. He mumbled a half-hearted goodnight and left. I sighed in relief. I was finally rid of him. I turned around and pulled my phone charger out of my bag. I sent Wanda a quick goodnight text, telling her that I had arrived safely and would be back tomorrow. I plugged my charger into the electrical outlet adapter and set my phone to charge. I collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted heap, my tired eyes stung when I closed them. I wasn't sure what Zemo wanted to tell me, but it had better be worth it, after eight hours on a plane with Everett Ross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin Freeman's American accent is my favorite thing, ok? Ross was SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE, snarky little self entitled jerk. Zemo is definitely in the next chapter, you have all been so very patient. :) Also, there's a ton of references in this chapter, I'm really curious to see if anybody picks up on them. ;)


	4. Prisoners

The knocking at my door woke me up much earlier than I had expected. At six in the morning, three sharp and precise knocks could be heard coming from the hallway. I rolled over in bed, the sun's early pink light just barely shining through the open curtains. I slowly got up and asked through the door who was outside.

"I am Mr. Ross's assistant, you may call me Bridget." she said, she sounded like an automated recording. I recognized her voice instantly as the woman who I had spoken to on the phone back in the bathroom in New York, the one with the mechanical voice. I opened the door to see a blonde woman, about average height, wearing a dark grey dress and heels. She had bright green eyes that stared straight through me. She looked almost like a robot, from the way she was standing; hands behind her back, a closed mouth smile plastered on her face, her long golden hair pulled back behind her head. Her eyes were wide and emotionless, like they were both made of the finest glass. She blinked and it startled me. "Are you ready for the meeting, Miss ___?" she asked cheerily, the creepy smile widened. She was a hell of a morning person.

"Um, just let me get dressed first. I'll be right back." She nodded and I slowly closed the door. I shook my head to wake myself up a little more, an uncomfortable chill ran down my spine. I quickly got dressed, fixed up my appearance in the mirror, grabbed my phone and key card and headed out the door. Bridget was still in the same place, with the same happy-go-lucky expression on her face. She led me to the elevator, I avoided her gaze as we stepped inside. She looked straight ahead at the doors as they closed, and all the way to the ground floor she stood and just smiled. I nearly sprinted out when the doors opened again and we emerged into the busy lobby. I followed her out to another black SUV parked in front of the doors and we both climbed into the backseat. I was thankful that Ross wasn't in the passenger seat, I wanted to have at least a few more minutes of peace before I had to deal with him again. But I still had this strange woman sitting beside me.

The drive to the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre was long and boring. The driver never made a sound and Bridget never looked my way. Again, I was very thankful. The SUV finally pulled up to the JCTC and Bridget and I got out and walked up to the front doors. Bridget led the way up to the front desk where I was given a visitor's badge that I clipped to the bottom of my shirt. I had to leave my phone with them, something I was not at all happy about, but I complied. I followed the robot lady down a few hallways until she stopped at a door and held it open for me. I stepped inside and she followed. It was a large hangar, where all kinds of different vehicles were parked; small one person planes, more SUVs and tanks. At the end of the room, I could see the slimy form of Everett Ross, surrounded by a team of armed military men. A blonde woman was standing beside him, a miserable look on her face, probably from standing too close to Ross. Bridget led me across the hangar to the ensemble of guards and the tiny man, directing them with his orders. Ross turned and nodded my way when the blonde woman notified him of my arrival.

"Miss ___, good morning. I'd like you to meet Sharon Carter." he gestured to the woman beside him. I held back a smile, she held back hers. I shook Sharon's hand like I had never met her before, she mumbled a hello. I had stayed at the compound with Wanda and Vision while the rest of the team did their business here the first time. While I had never been here before, I had certainly met Sharon, under different circumstances of course.

"Nice to meet you Miss Carter." I said, she smiled in silent appreciation. Ross instructed Bridget to accompany Sharon while he took me to meet with Zemo. She nodded and walked away with Sharon the way we had come in. Ross motioned for me to follow, I obliged. He led me to a door on the far side of the hangar that led into another hallway. I followed him for a long time, through several doors that required key cards and hand print scans. We finally emerged into a room with two-way mirror. The glass looked into an empty interrogation room, only a table and two chairs took up the space. A horizontal metal bar was attached to the middle of the table, a railing that separated the two sides. Ross held a hand up to his earpiece.

"Is he ready?" he asked into his own ear. There was a reply that only Ross could hear and he nodded. The door inside the interrogation room opened, a guard walked inside and attached one end of two pairs of hand cuffs to the metal bar. leaving the other ends unlocked. He left and two different guards took his place. Zemo was between them, his hands cuffed tightly in front of him. The guards sat him down and attached the two pairs of cuffs to his wrists, removing the ones he arrived with. The guards left, leaving the criminal alone in front of an empty chair. "You have an hour, no more." Ross instructed. I took a deep breath as I walked to the door. I opened it and stepped into the room. Zemo's eyes instantly jumped to me as I entered and closed the door.

"Hello." I said nervously, not exactly sure what to say. He nodded once in reply. I slowly walked over to the empty chair and sat down. He had small purple bruises on his face and cuts along his nose and temples that he didn't have before, when I last saw him. They must have tried to get the information out of him by using other methods. I took one look at him and realized he wasn't the mastermind I had checkmated in the snow, not anymore. This man was beaten and broken, and his eyes looked down into mine and I could feel the distress, the abyss of sadness he held within them. I saw a man who had nothing left to live for, nothing left to lose, not a terrorist or a criminal hellbent on my destruction. I could feel the sympathy pouring back into me, filling me up against my will, like how someone feels when they fall in love at first sight. The last time I felt that, I was six years old. The sickening high of Dopamine swirled through my head and threatened to drown me. I had never felt something so strongly before, not even with Pietro and the thought of it made me feel sick. This was the enemy. He had hurt us in every way possible, divided and conquered us. I wanted to punch him, add a few more bruises to the beaten canvas of his face and body, to finish the masterpiece someone else had started. But I froze, and against my better judgement, I continued on. "They said that you'll only talk to me." I muttered.

"You are the only one who knows the truth." Zemo said. I could feel Ross's angry glare on the back of my head at Zemo's first confession. "I didn't know who else to trust." Oh, Ross was going to let me have it later. In his mind, not telling him the whole story was basically me lying to his face. "But I am not going to confess any more today." he added. I could hear a loud noise in the room behind me, Ross was probably pitching a fit, but I kept my attention on the man in front of me.

"Why not?" I asked quietly. He shrugged, his cuffs rattled.

"Because you are going to come back tomorrow." he said, with a strange sense of confidence. "I will tell you everything then. But today, I would just like to talk."

"Okay." I agreed. "What would you like to talk about?" He flashed a hint of a smile, but it faded fast. I had never seen him smile before. I wanted him to do it again.

"You are Sokovian?" he asked. I nodded. "I could tell by your voice, from before. What part?"

"The North." I replied. "Where the streets weren't as bad." he nodded in understanding. "Though that was before the blasts." I added.

"Do you remember them?" he asked, with a ounce of concern that I could tell was genuine.

"Yes. I was only six, but I remember." He smiled sadly, causing a cut on the side of his nose to stretch out.

"I was in my twenties," he said. "I remember them _very_ well." Twenties? Was he that much older than me?

"It seems as if we can't catch a break." I commented, trying to bring the mood back up. He nodded.

"So it seems." he agreed. There was a long moment of silence, Zemo kept his eyes on his wrists. "What do you think comes after death?" he inquired, his eyebrows knitted together and his sad smile turned into a slight frown. "Do we go to a Paradise? Or do we just rot in the ground?" I thought about it for a moment, avoiding his eyes once I realized they were now dead set on staring into my own.

"I'd like to think there's something better than this place, but either way, we're all going to rot in the ground." I replied. There was that smile again, bringing my heart to its knees.

"Either way we rot." he repeated. "I guess you're right." I heard a loud knock on the mirror behind me and I knew Ross was getting impatient. I also knew that if I didn't comply to what Zemo wanted, he would never tell me anything at all. Zemo lowered his head a bit, trying to catch my gaze again, but I kept looking straight between his eyes at the bridge of his nose, focusing on a specifically nasty cut there. I would not look into his eyes. I would not make that mistake again. Another furious knock made me whip my head around to face the mirror, my own reflection rippled at the force of the knock. I looked back to Zemo, expecting to snap my gaze back to his cut, but I was wrong. He had moved closer to me in the time my head was turned, he leaned over the bar, the chains on his cuffs wrapped up in his hands to silence their sound. I turned straight into his eyes and I was trapped. This man was powerless, chained and defeated, yet he held an immense power over me that I did not want to understand. I wanted out of that room. Not because I was afraid of him, or afraid of what Ross was going to do to me once I left. No, I was afraid of what those eyes could make me do.

"I-I think I should leave." I stuttered out, backing away from him as I stood up and nearly ran to the door.

"Will you come back?" he asked, almost pleaded, but he hid his disappointment well. Not well enough.

"Yes." I said, as I opened the door. I quickly made my way out of the interrogation room and looked over to Ross. Papers were scattered all over the place, a hole was neatly punched right through the wall and a furious look was pointed in my direction.

"Get back in there," Ross commanded, pointing towards Zemo through the glass. "Right now." I shook my head.

"There's no point, you heard him. He isn't going to talk unless this is done his way." I argued. Ross covered his face with his hand and half-screamed half-sighed, he knew I was right. He couldn't admit it.

"Someone get her out of here." he said into his hand. An armed guard immediately took me by the arm and pulled me towards the exit. I turned back just in time to see the guards from before taking Zemo away. He looked straight through the glass, almost as if he could see me, his eyes commanding me to stare back, as they dragged him through the door opposite me. I was taken back through the hangar and into the lobby, where I was given my phone back and instructions that Bridget would return for me the following morning, at the same time as before, to try all of this again. I agreed, before they took me back to the SUV. I spent the ride back to the hotel in silence. When the driver dropped me off at the hotel, I immediately went up to my room and cried. I wanted to call Wanda, I wanted to go home and hold her, have everything go back to normal. I wanted to be home so badly, even if we lived in a shitty little apartment on the bad side of town. It was my shitty apartment, I lived there with my sister, and I wanted to be home.

Better yet, I wanted to be with both of them again. Even if it meant living on the streets again, because anywhere they were was home. I tried to fill my thoughts with those of Pietro, his kiss in the alley, the smile he gave me when the nurse gave me those stitches, the first time I felt his full weight on top of me, with his lips at my throat. But then I remembered the bullet holes, and how I screamed until my voice tore, because _he wasn't fast enough._ I leaned my back against the window, and shrank down until I was sitting, with the back of my head to the wall. I covered my face with my hands and silently screamed into them. Wanda didn't see it happen to him, but I did. My heart was racing, and it felt like fists were trying to beat themselves out of my chest, tearing through me until they found the light on the outside. Memories floated through my mind as I tried to focus on only them. But flashes of someone else filtered through, making their presence known. Him lying in the snow, his gun pointed at my face, the exhaustion in his eyes, with glimmers of satisfaction. Suddenly my hand was on his again and those eyes looked into mine, and while I didn't know it yet, I was done for. There was the pleading for me to kill him and the broken promises that next time we'll know better, next time no one will die. But people always die.

I reached for my phone that I had carelessly tossed to the bed when I arrived, but it was so far away. I would have died right then just to hear her voice, the soft whispers that everything was going to be okay, but I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk her. So instead I stayed on the floor, I listened to the hotel make its noises and cars outside honk their horns. It was only a little past 10AM, but I rolled onto my side and tried to sleep. At 4PM, I awoke, dead tired and curled up on the floor, a dull ache in my side. I was going to leave. I had made up my mind before I even woke up. I threw my things back into my bag, zipped it up and ran for the door. Fuck Everett Ross, fuck his robot assistant and fuck Zemo. I had more important things to worry about. I got as far as the door before I stopped, my hand hovering just above the doorknob. If I left, and Ross found out, he'd have not only my head mounted to his wall, but he'd have Wanda's as well. I could feel the tears coming again and I dropped my bag to the floor. I had to stay. I had no other choice.

To wake me up, and get me outside for a while, I left the hotel thirty minutes later in search of coffee. It would remind me of Wanda, and I needed to be reminded of good things. Three blocks away from the hotel, I knew I was being followed. When I left the hotel, there was a man sitting outside, casually reading the paper. As I passed the bakery down the road, there he was, a few yards behind me, the newspaper tucked under his arm. And now, five blocks from where I first saw him, he was there, every time I discreetly looked back over my shoulder. I started to panic, but showed no sign of it on the outside. As I made my way into a large crowd of tourists, to cover myself, a hand reached out and pulled me by my wrist. Their other hand covered my mouth as I was pulled behind a shop. The person shushed me, and once I recognized her, my nerves subsided.

"What are you doing?" Sharon asked me, in a hushed tone, but there was anger in her voice.

"I _was_ going out for coffee," I replied, out of breath from trying to escape. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard Ross tell a guard to follow you after you left, over the earpieces. I had to keep an eye on you." she explained. I sighed in relief. How many times was this woman going to save my life?

"You are a saint, Miss Carter." I whispered. Sharon smiled.

"Oh please, my aunt was the saint. Anyway, just go, order your coffee, use the alias that Ross gave you. And please, for the love of God, go back to your hotel and stay there until they come for you." she instructed. "I'll be in touch." I nodded, taking in all of the information as quickly as I could. I gave her a quick hug before I rejoined the crowd. I had lost the man for now, but I hurriedly headed to a coffee place that I spotted just across the street. I went inside and got in line. I didn't know very much German, just enough to ask for directions, or where the train station was. I told the girl behind the counter my order, she asked for my name.

"Abigail." I replied, as she wrote my alias down on an order sheet. I quickly got my coffee and headed back to the hotel as if nothing had ever happened. I saw the man out of the corner of my eye coming up the street as I turned to enter into the hotel lobby. I ignored him as if he wasn't there and I returned to my room, back to my prison cell.


	5. Fugitives

I had gone to bed early that night, having already expected the robot lady to again arrive at my door before the sun had a chance to rise. Right on the dot at six that morning, there were the knocks. I stepped out of my room, already dressed and ready to go, much to her surprise. Bridget didn't look as friendly as she had the first time we had met. The creepy smile that usually spread across her face was gone, replaced by a thin line she made with her lips, as if she were tolerating me under orders, instead of being a helpful guide like before. She stood there in a different grey dress, her hair completely pinned up this time. Yet her eyes were as cold and unwelcoming as ever.

"Are you ready to depart?" she asked, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. I nodded as I closed the door behind me. "Good. Because we will get our answers today." she assured me. Bridget started down the hall and I had to quickly catch up with her. The elevator ride was strange and quiet. She started out by just looking straight ahead like before, but then her head slowly turned and she stared blankly at the side of my face. I was afraid she might attack me, but I had my hand out to the side, ready to drain her energy if need be, but only if I had to. The elevator doors opened and we stepped out. No knife in my back, no surprise ambush of guards in the lobby. I was safe. As safe as I could be in the presence of this bizarre woman. The drive was again long and boring, and I kept my attention on the passing buildings and trees through the window the entire way. Though this time, I could feel those evil green eyes boring into the back of my head with every passing second. We arrived at the JCTC before too long and Bridget led me back into the lobby, where I turned in my phone and anything else they deemed too dangerous for me to take in. I was immediately graced with the presence of Everett Ross just past the front desk. I cringed as I attached my visitor's badge, thankfully he didn't notice.

"Shall we get started?" he asked, as Bridget left. I nodded in reply as he escorted me through the maze of hallways, into the hangar, and down even more hallways until once again I stood with him in the interrogation room. I could see Zemo through the glass, he had more scrapes and bruises than he did yesterday. It made me angry, but I wasn't sure why. There was one armed guard waiting for us and he stood by the window on our side. The hole that had been punched through the wall had been repaired. I was much more nervous this time around, more so than yesterday and I wasn't entirely sure why. I wasn't sure of a lot of things today. I couldn't stop my hands from shaking, so I held them tightly together in front of me. "Go on." Ross urged, nodding towards the door, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit jacket. I tried to keep my breathing steady as I inched closer to the door. "If you don't get me my answers today," Ross began, his voice coming from behind my back. "I'm going to send a group of my men back to New York for your sister. Fair trade don't you think? My answers for your sister not getting blown away?" he chuckled. My blood ran ice cold, I tried to turn my head towards him, but my muscles wouldn't allow it. I shakily forced myself to open the door, keeping my tears at bay, as I once again met eyes with the criminal.

I wondered, in the few seconds it took for me to cross the room and sit down, if he could feel my distress, as desperately as I tried to hide it. His expression had changed from one of delight to see me, to deep concern in just those few seconds.

"Hello." he greeted, he forced a smile for either my benefit, or Ross's.

"Hi." I replied, my voice was shakier than I had anticipated. "Do I get my explanation today?" He nodded, his eyebrows furrowed.

"You will get an explanation today, I promise." He smiled. My hands started to shake again, and I held them in my lap, trying to stop the shivers from going up my arms. I tried to focus on Zemo, but my thoughts only drifted to Wanda. How did they know where she was? "Are you cold?" he asked suddenly, snapping my sister from my mind. "You look cold."

"Yes," I lied, hoping he would believe me. But I hoped Ross could believe it more.

"It always seems to be cold when we meet." he noted, still carefully scanning over my face. "Are you scared of me?" he asked, his eyes flashed up from my arms and into my eyes. I looked up as they pulled me in. Mistake number one.

"No, not of you." I whispered, so low only he could hear, shaking my head so Ross could see me answer. I prayed that Ross hadn't heard me, and as I had heard no banging around behind me, I assumed he hadn't. Zemo ran his fingers down the cold chain of his left handcuff.

"Why not?" he laughed lowly. "I am a criminal. A terrorist. I ruined your life and the lives of your friends. I am surprised that you have not killed me by now." He was changing the subject, making himself look bad in the eyes of the so called good guys behind me. And I couldn't figure out why.

"I don't see a reason to kill you." I answered truthfully. "I promised you a fair trial, that's why I'm here."

"You know as well as I do that I won't be getting a fair trial," he scoffed. "Death penalty at best."

"And at worst?" I asked.

"Prison." He started twirling something around in his hand, using my body as a shield so Ross and the guard couldn't see. "Some might think that is better than death, I would rather not find out."

"It doesn't have to be that way." I argued. Mistake number two. His eyes perked up, he smiled. I cringed at the carelessness at how I was using my words.

"Like you said, ___. Either way I rot, don't I?" My chest tightened at the mention of my name. The way it rolled from his tongue, it sent a shiver down my spine that wasn't from my anxiety. He could see it, I know he could. The small glimmer of compassion I had let through when my guard was down, the involuntary ripple of my shoulders, the heaviness within my chest. Mistake number three. He sunk down low in his chair, leaning over the table, close to the bar he was chained to. He caught my eyes again, ensnared my gaze like a hunter setting a trap. And I was the stupid little rabbit who walked right into it, blind of the consequences. He opened his hand, just enough for the light to catch what he held inside of it. The gleam of silver sent a wave of panic through me. He whispered to me then, as low as he could, still using me to block Ross's view. "If you help me, I will help you." I froze as he slowly set the key into one of the cuffs. I started talking about the first thing that came to mind, to cover the noise the metal made.

"Either way we all rot, don't we?" I replied to his previous words. "It doesn't matter who we are. Rich, poor, old or young. We are all going to die, at some point. Wouldn't you rather live out your life first, rather than give up and die?" The key clicked in the lock just before my sentence ended.

"I would rather see my family again." he replied, as he wrapped his hand loosely around the unlocked cuff. "Whether there is a Paradise or not. Maybe I will die and there will be nothing, or just maybe I will go to a beautiful place where they will all be waiting for me, sitting on clouds." Zemo held the key tightly in his unlocked hand. "Wouldn't you rather see your loved ones again? The family who died in the blasts? Those you have lost since then? To have Pietro hold you in his arms again." That one stung me. I wasn't sure if that was part of the plan or not, but I instantly felt the tears well up against my eyes, the shaking had returned with force. How did he know so much about me? "I know what it is like to fall into the abyss, to be drained of life, sometimes you have to remind others that they are human." As my tears fell, he gave me a strange smile. It was dark and full of fascination, a smile that made his eyes eclipse with poison and evil. "Sometimes you have to remind those who are standing in your way what it feels like to be nothing." The realization finally hit me and I stared back at him in stunned silence. I had no time to think it over. This was my worst fear, when I walked back into this room. I was _not_ afraid of Helmut Zemo, but I was _very_ afraid of what he could make me do.

"Ross?" I called out, looking back at the mirror. "Can I take a break? Please?" I begged, forcing more tears to drop, letting the shakiness take hold of my voice. After a few seconds I heard the door open and I took that as a yes. I stood up and walked back into the room with Ross and the guard. Ross looked mad and frustrated with me, though unable to make a clear decision with me crying. Everett Ross was very uncomfortable around crying women. Before he could bark an order at me, my hand clasped tightly around his throat. His skin turned a sickly grey and he quickly collapsed to the floor in a dazed heap. The armed guard pointed his rifle up at me, but thankfully I was faster. He soon joined Ross on the floor as I bolted for the door. Zemo was already out of his remaining cuff as I let him through. He wasted no time and quickly switched clothes with the guard, going as far as sliding the rifle over his shoulder. Zemo grabbed me by the arm and led me into the hallway. He slipped the goggles from the helmet over his eyes as he roughly dragged me through the corridors.

"Which way?" he asked me. I backtracked through as best as I could remember, his grip tightening at every turn, showing him the way as best as I could remember. We emerged into the lobby where I was led to the front desk to collect my things and hand over my visitor's badge. The man at the front desk was oblivious, I did as he asked and soon we were outside. Zemo dragged me off to the side where we were hidden well enough behind part of the building. He dropped the rifle and disposed of the riot gear, leaving on the rest of the uniform that could easily pass for street clothes. When he was ready, he took my hand into his and we ran. We ran for at least three miles, away from my hotel, until we were safely hidden into a more secluded part of the city.

"They _will_ recognize you." I insisted, his hand still wrapped around mine. "Your face is on every television screen in the world."

"They won't recognize me, not if you help me." he replied. We walked down the deserted street hand in hand, as if we were old friends.

"You have to get me back to New York." I said, a hint of panic washed into my voice as I suddenly remembered Wanda. "Ross said he's going to hurt my sister, I have to get back." We came to a bridge, dark water rushed beneath our feet, reflecting from the dark, cloudy sky over our heads. Zemo suddenly stopped, I kept walking but his grip on my hand stopped me, lightly pulling me back to him.

"I can't do that." he said simply. All the feeling I had drained out of me, every ounce of hope I had of saving my sister just dropped away and washed into the water.

"What do you mean?" I asked slowly. For the first time since Siberia, I was afraid of him. "I helped you. You said you were going to help _me._ "

"We are wanted criminals. You helped me escape, soon your face will be all over the televisions too." he noted. I felt my heart squeezing in my chest with its every beat.

"You used me..." I whispered.

"At first. Because I knew I could trust you. I'm very sorry." Zemo said, as he pulled something out of his back pocket and locked it tight around my left wrist before I could react. He quickly snapped the other side of the handcuffs around his right wrist, it locked with a sickening click. I looked up at him in shock, more panic surged through me as I pulled at the cuff on my arm. He took the small silver key from his pocket. I grabbed for it, but just like my beloved boy back in Sokovia, I wasn't fast enough. The key dropped into the water below, washing away with the tide. My free hand missed it by mere inches and landed roughly against Zemo's chest as I watched my freedom fall into the dark water. I smacked him hard against his shoulder.

"You fucking bastard, what did you do?!" I screamed, sending another punch just above his heart. He swiftly pulled me into his arms, my back against his chest as his free hand covered over my mouth. He pulled me down until we were blocked from view, under the bridge's railing.

"Calm down." he demanded, his tone was serious, his arms were incredibly strong. It was then that I remembered that he used to be a soldier. Zemo was sitting down with his back to the railing. I was still hugged close to him, my back firm against his chest with the rest of my body pinned in between his knees. "If you get us caught, you will never see your sister again. Ross will guarantee that. I'm so sorry I did this to you, but it was the only way for me to get out. I'm going to let you go, but if you scream, you'll never see her again." My breathing was heavy against his chest as I struggled to get air through his hand. I nodded and he slowly uncovered my mouth, the arm around my waist loosened. I rolled out of his arms and sat down beside him. 

"Why did you want out so badly? You looked as if you were ready to die in there." I said, my chest rising and falling either from the lack of air or from the panic.

"I owe someone." he said simply. "I don't feel sorry for your friends, they hurt me in unimaginable ways. But there is one other, besides you, who was not at fault. I hurt him, I wronged him, and I have to set it right." he confessed, a droplet of rain slid down his forehead over an open cut. The blood dripped down the side of his nose.

"Why don't you think I was at fault?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Because I saw you, when Sokovia was being destroyed. You were helping, because your powers were useless there. I didn't know you had any at the time, but once I began my research, I discovered what you can do. There was no need for your powers, as they only work on living beings with blood in their veins, they would not have worked on Ultron. You helped, it is why I spared you from my destruction." I stared at the side of his face, in perfect profile, as the rain fell slowly in large drops around us.

"You remembered me?" I asked quietly. He nodded.

"Before I found my family. I saw you evacuating civilians. I recognized you, as one of them. It was one of the strongest memories I have of that day. Everything was hopeless, but there were still some who were fighting back. I was too weak to fight anymore, like now." He turned to me. "But I have to look past that. Because now I owe you as well. I got you into this, I am going to get you back to your sister. I promise. Enough families have been destroyed, it is time for this to end." He stood up, careful not to drag me. He held his hand out and I hesitated before accepting it. He wrapped his hand around my wrist, mine wrapped around his to hide the cuffs, as we crossed over the bridge.

"You still expect me to help you after this?" I asked him, motioning to the cuffs that held us together. "That I'm just going to go along with your every wish? You fucked me over." He sighed as we started heading out of the city and into the wooded secluded areas.

"I am going to make it up to you." he promised as we ducked into the trees. "But we have other things to do first."

"Why did you have to cuff me?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't go with me, that you would run away. I could not have you running to the authorities. You might have sold me out to save yourself and your sister, in fact I would guarantee that's what you would have done." He suddenly stopped and stood in front of me, putting his free hand on my shoulder. "Where is your phone? They could be tracking us." I hurriedly fished it from my pocket and gave it to him. He disabled it and handed it back to me. "How long do the effects of your abilities last?"

"It depends on how long I want them to, however much energy I want to take." I explained.

"Where does the energy go?" he asked, his hand returning to my shoulder. Too much of him was touching me, and I didn't hate it as much as I should have.

"To me. I can either keep it, let it gradually flow out over time. Or I can transfer it, make someone who is weak stronger. I used the energy from Ross and the guard to help you escape. It's how we ran over three miles in almost no time, why your cuts have healed up a little bit. I can't physically heal people, but the abundance of extra life energy helps small wounds heal faster, you're welcome." His hand left my shoulder as he ran it across his face, feeling of the cuts along his temple and nose.

"Did you do this on purpose?" he questioned. I nodded.

"I had no chance of escape on my own either, I used you. Like you used me." I said. The look in his eyes called me out as a liar, but he didn't say a word. "Ross is probably just waking up, I don't think anyone knows we're gone yet. Ross was too cocky. He had minimal security, because with him in control, nothing could go wrong." His hand tightened around mine. Without another word, he pulled me further into the trees. 

"We should be safe out here for a little while." he said. "They will be looking at airports, or whatever place they were keeping you." 

"They had me at a hotel, a long way from the JCTC building." 

"Then they won't be looking for us in a forest." he said, that dark smile crossing his face again.


	6. On the Run

I don't think I had been asleep for long, when I felt his arm slowly snake around me. There was a sudden feeling of safety as I was locked into his strong grip. I was rolled onto my side on the dirt forest floor, tiny rocks embedded uncomfortably into the side of my shoulder, a few stray green pine needles itched against my face. I could feel his warm exhales on the back of my neck as he slept, leaving light shivers across my skin in their wake. I hadn't been held like this in so long, I had forgotten what it felt like to be so close to someone. I started shaking nervously from the thrill of it all, and the nervousness turned to excitement as I realized how wrong it was; to be with someone so new, someone so frighteningly ominous. His sleepy breaths turned heavy as he nuzzled his mouth closer to my neck, stirring only halfway out of his repose. I tensed as his teeth met the flesh near my throat, biting down ever so slightly before slowly moving up to my jaw. His lips grazed over just the right place and I bit down on my lip, suppressing a sigh as his tongue teased along my jawline. He moved back down, his mouth hovering over where my neck meets my shoulder and he sighed lovingly.

"Are you starting to forget about me?" Pietro asked sadly, lips brushing against my skin. I gasped as I violently lurched forward out of my lucid sleep, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkening forest around me. My chest heaved as I struggled to regain the air into my lungs, my free hand clutched over my rapidly beating heart. I turned my head to the left, where the sleeping form of my partner in crime lay, my left hand still cuffed tightly to his. It took me several minutes to realize that I had been dreaming, though not only of Pietro. I tried to shake the thoughts from my mind as I slowly laid my head back down on the forest floor. I was very lucky that I hadn't woken him up, after my silent outburst. Dreaming about Pietro was bad enough, but also dreaming about the terrorist sleeping softly next to me was different. I shuffled a bit to the side, moving away from Zemo. I wasn't sure how I had gotten so close to him in the first place. After trekking a few miles into the forest, he had decided that we should stop to rest. We were to sleep until nightfall and then continue on from there, using the darkness as cover. Because he was right, who would have thought to look for us here? Now at a comfortable distance from Zemo, I could see the purple twilight sky through the tops of the trees above us, signaling the night's quickly approaching arrival. As a handful of stars began to appear in the lavender gloom above, I felt the chain of the cuff shift as his hand wrapped around mine.

I looked over to see that he was still asleep on his back, his head was turned slightly away from me, though I could make out his soft, relaxed features. It was the first time I had seen him look so peaceful. He always looked upset or angry, besides the rare times when he would smile, but I had never seen him look so entirely calm before. Even the small cuts and bruises still etched into his skin looked better, healed over by my abilities. His grip around my hand tightened instinctively as he stirred, his peaceful eyes blinked open, slowly adjusting to the lavender sea of stars. He turned his head to me, realizing where he was as he shook the sleep away. He quickly let go of me, but my hand reached out for his in reflex, he shook his head.

"It's not a good idea." he mumbled as he sat up, leaning his back against the tree behind us. I shifted and sat beside him under the tree, leaning against its visible roots above the ground.

"I'm sorry..." I replied quietly, a hint of hurt in my voice. My mind quickly flooded with thoughts of his family, followed by a wave of guilt and embarrassment. It had only been a year, of course he didn't want me touching him. "I...wasn't thinking." The remnants of the dream had caught me off guard. I longed to be close to him, but my other half was screaming in protest.

"Do you still miss him? Your boyfriend?" he asked, his eyes locked onto me. I kept my gaze ahead, refusing to look at him. I couldn't look him in the eye, not with that mental image still in my head.

"Yes." I replied. I opened my mouth to ask him the same, but about his own loved ones, but I stopped myself. There was no sense in being cruel in return of his slight rejection. He sighed tiredly and stood up, looking at the darkening sky above.

"We slept for too long." he noted. "We need to go." I stood up, brushing the pine needles out of my hair with my fingers. He wrapped his cuffed hand around the chain instead of touching me. I did the same, a inch of chain was left exposed, a small but frustrating barrier left between us. He led the way through the trees, the night animals began making their sounds around us as we navigated the overgrown woods. I reached for my pocket, feeling the outline of my phone. I debated about turning it back on, so I could tell Wanda that I was okay, and that she might need to run. My heart started to pound at the thought of Ross finding her. I had lost one twin, but I was not about to lose the other. My battery would be dead soon, and I had stupidly left my charger back at the hotel. I hoped that since it was turned off, I might have just enough battery to later warn my sister of what might be coming for her.

Within thirty minutes, the edge of the forest was in sight, the bright light of the moon overhead guided us through the rest of the way. I stepped out to keep going, but Zemo quickly grabbed me tightly by my upper arm and pulled me back.

"There's a hill." he whispered close to my ear. Sure enough, there was a sharp hill right at the forest's edge, and I had almost walked right down it. I would have surely fallen and taken him tumbling down with me. He held a firm grip on my arm as he carefully walked us down the sharp incline. I kept forgetting that he was once a soldier, he knew how to navigate his way around, how to see in the dark, how to lead. There was a large open field straight ahead of us, lit up in the moon's summer glow. The moon showed us an old farmhouse at the start of the field, with a few buildings off to the right of it.

"It looks abandoned," I said, referring to the house. He nodded, the grip on my arm loosened. We made our way to the bottom of the hill and up the steps of the old house. It was two stories, old white paint was peeling from the aging wood that barely held the place together. There were shingles from the roof that were scattered in the overgrown front lawn, blown off in storms that had long since passed. The door was still strongly latched on though. Zemo tried to turn the knob, but it stuck tight, either from just being locked, or from the many layers of rust that held it shut.

"If it's abandoned, we should stay for a while." he whispered. "At least until the next night falls, to insure that Ross won't find us. We should be long gone by now, out of Germany, and they would never think to look here." Zemo said Ross's name with the most disgusted tone I had ever heard, spitting out the single syllable like a snake would spit venom. "Here, grab onto my arm." he said, holding his cuffed arm out to me.

"Why?" I asked curiously.

"I am going to break down the door, I don't want to pull you. It is best if you add your weight to mine, otherwise you are going to fly." he explained. I agreed and wrapped my free arm around his bicep, wrapping my cuffed hand around his, as it was the only part of his arm I could reach with such restriction. He braced himself, lining his shoulder up to the door. He leaned us back and roughly slammed his shoulder against the old wood. It gave almost immediately, breaking away from the doorknob, as the splintered wood shattered beneath our shared weight. He was quick to prop the broken door back in place. The interior of the house was nearly empty, and pitch black. The entryway cut off into three different directions, left, right and upstairs. We went to the right first, the hallway led us into a dusty old living room. It was nearly empty, except for a fireplace, two cobweb covered armchairs side by side, and a small round table between them. We were exhausted from the walk, so we sat down for a while to rest, our linked hands rested together on the table, but they did not touch.

"We should check the other buildings before we leave." he noted. I groaned tiredly in reply, my eyes fluttering closed.

"Can we unlock the cuffs now? Don't you know how to pick a lock?" I asked, my head leaning back against the web covered material of the chair, eyes shut tight.

"If I find something that will unlock them, I will." he replied shortly. My eyes opened, and I stared at his shaded face in the near dark.

"We're eventually going to, I mean, once we get back to the cities. It's going to look strange, two people handcuffed to each other. And we have to get to New York somehow." I explained. There was a long silence, not counting the occasional creaks the house made.

"I don't know...we'll see." he said softly.

"You still don't trust me?" I joked. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry." he mumbled.

"What for this time?" I asked.

"I didn't know I would be putting your sister in danger. I know how badly you want to call her. But you have to promise me that you won't. You would be putting a target on our backs, a big neon sign for Ross to follow. Promise me, ___." There was the involuntary shiver running down my spine again. Every time he said my name, a cold chill rolled down my back. A violent wave of desire crashed through every vertebrae, all commanded by his voice, that one word. The swirling in my head returned, and I hated myself all over again.

"I promise." I said. He nodded and laughed lowly.

"It was either you, or the Panther." he confessed. "But I did not want to take a King for ransom, it did not seem like the best plan. So I chose the pretty girl instead." His smile twisted to one side, I could see it in the dark now that my eyes had adjusted. This time my blood joined the chill running down my spine, every vein turned to pure ice; but the blood pumping through my heart began to boil, beating the muscular organ mercilessly against my rib cage. "Besides, I don't think T'Challa would have been as merciful as you have been." he added, the smirk on his face gave his words a strange new tone, a sense of ominous thrill. I could feel him looking at me through the darkness, what little moonlight that shone through the few windows on the far wall allowed me to see the faint shadows and outlines as he shifted back into his chair, lightly pulling on the chain as he did so. "Do you think this is the end of the world?" he suddenly asked, his strange cosmic nature returned.

"What do you mean?" I replied.

"After all of the other times, the blasts when we were younger, what Ultron did, all of the things that I caused... We have gone through all of it together, you and me. Even though we were separated for most of it, we were both still there. Do you think that this is it? Our final act?" he asked. I hesitated, thinking his question over carefully.

"Is that how you feel? That this is the end of the line?"

"Yes," he replied quickly. "For me. But not for you." His fingers began to run up and down the chain between us, making the metal scrape along the table. He would get close to touching me, but would back off just before he grazed my skin. "I deserve to burn, you deserve your family back."

"So do you." I blurted out. The chain stopped moving, and I could feel that cold, achingly beautiful glare on me again. "You didn't deserve to lose anyone." I added. "I meant what I said in Siberia. We were too focused on destroying the problem in Sokovia, too focused on Ultron, that we didn't take civilians into enough consideration, not like we should have. You lost so much and I am so sorry." Everything from that day flooded back at an instant; the fires, the bodies, torn mechanical limbs and parts, buildings in rubble, my darling boy filled with bullet holes, his blood all over me as I rushed to him. I felt the tears coming, but I held them back. Because once they started, they were not going to stop. "How are we getting to Wakanda?" I asked. He tilted his head in confusion.

"What do you mean? I thought you wanted to go back to New York." he questioned.

"I do." I said, still blinking back stray tears. "But I've gotten you this far. I'm taking you all the way to the end, even if that means that this _is_ our final act." He sighed, his free hand rubbed at his tired eyes.

"I asked you this, before." he began. "But things are very different now. Why are you doing this? Why are you being so kind to me? All I have done in our short time together is deceive you. I'm holding you hostage," he pulled his arm up from the table, taking mine with it as he held it above our heads. "I'm a monster, but here you are, in the shadows with me. You must be some kind of emotional masochist, putting up with me like you have." He put our arms back down with a light thud.

"No." I replied. "I just..." I didn't have an answer. I wasn't able to tell him why I was helping him escape, because I didn't know the answer myself. Was the desire to help him so strong because my desire was _for_ him, or was it because I was lonely, because I missed Pietro and was desperate to feel something again? Maybe I am an emotional masochist. His eyes were trailing me again, I knew without looking. He was trying to figure me out, but was coming up blank. That cold glare was beaming right through me, but there was a conflicting warmth to it that I couldn't describe. I felt him tug lightly at the chain, trying to get my attention.

"You just...what?" he demanded, his voice calm, gaining confidence.

"I don't know." I replied, involuntarily stammering. "I just...wanted to help you."

"You risked your life, your sister's life, the lives of your friends and colleagues. You risked your reputation as a hero, as an _Avenger..._ " he hissed the last word, with almost as much disgust as when he had talked about Ross. "All for the life of a terrorist, a war criminal, with nothing left to lose. There must be a bigger reason, because this is not adding up." he explained. I looked him dead in the eye, the moonlight was low enough through the windows now, and I could see his lurid features perfectly. In that moment I was unafraid of those eyes, who gave a damn about whatever power they held over me.

"I don't think you want to know why." I confessed. I felt a door slam in my heart and Pietro was on the other side, screaming out for me. Zemo's eyes widened in realization, this was the second time I had zipped across the chessboard and landed him in checkmate. The pawn had become a Queen and I had overthrown the King. But in every kingdom there is chaos, and I had just unleashed Pandora's Box. He chuckled to himself, breaking our eye contact as he looked down to the floor. He tugged at the chain, bringing my hand closer across the table, as his fingers ran lightly over the top of my wrist.

"That explains things..." he whispered. My eyes glanced over to our hands on the table, as his slight teasing set fire to my skin.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked angrily, twisting my hand away from his touch. "What _things_?" He shook his head.

"Never mind," he said. "I suppose I was wrong." The surge of confidence I held before was quickly dissipating, the nervous rush of danger returned with force. He stood up then, careful not to pull the chain too hard. He stood in front of the moonlight streaming through the window, eclipsing me from its glow. "Shall we explore?" he asked. 

I followed him into the entryway again, as we walked toward the left wing of the house. We emerged into an empty kitchen, only containing mold and more cobwebs. He led me back to the stairs, and they creaked loudly, threatening to break and fall out under our feet as we climbed up to the second floor. There was only one room, a bedroom just above the kitchen. The door was already open, rusted in place. The room was empty, except for a large bed and and a trunk below a window. He yawned deeply, dragging me over to the bed as he collapsed on top of it. "We will check everything else tomorrow, and leave at sundown. For now, rest." I laid down beside him, a far enough distance between us. His hand was the only part of him close to me, as it rested beside my own in the middle of the bed. I wanted out of the cuffs desperately, but there was the underlying conflict within me that longed to be close to him. I soon heard his soft snores, his breathing even and peaceful. I slowly reached into my pocket, my hand slipping around my phone. I pulled it out, and held it close to my chest as I turned it back on, shielding its bright glow from his resting eyes. I immediately wrote Wanda a warning, breaking my promise to my captor.

_I'm fine. I love you. Be safe, they're coming._

I hit send and quickly turned it back off, in case my new friend was right, and Ross _was_ using it to track us. Maybe that's how he knew where Wanda was in the first place. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, and I slowly drifted off to sleep, still joined at the wrist with the devil.


	7. Static

I made it through the entire night without a single dream, much to my relief. It was nice to have a break from the two men intruding their way into my head. The early morning sun drifted through the dusty, cracked window and spilled its warm light over me. I welcomed it with a yawn and stretched both of my arms above my head, bracing my hands against the headboard as my bones cracked. It only took a few seconds for me to realize that both of my arms were free, and that the cuff was missing. My heart skipped a panicked beat. He was gone, the left side of the bed beside me was cold as ice. I looked around the empty room, confused and still half asleep. I just knew that he had left me. What good was I to him now that he was free? I was just the bait, the distraction, the key to his cell. And I had been stupid enough to help him escape. I quickly got out of bed and went downstairs, searching every room in the creaky old house yet found no one inside. I threw myself back against the living room wall and huffed, arms crossed over my chest. I was glad to have my arm back, but angry that he had simply used me as an escape, though it was probably inevitable. How had he even unlocked the cuffs? Had he had access to a key this entire time? I looked up, straight ahead, and my eyes met the barn outside, through the window. The large door was slightly open, when last night it had been shut up tight. I felt a hopeful flutter in my chest, though it disappeared once I saw the door sway back and forth in the breeze. He had left me, and the wind had blown the door open.

I turned away from the wall and started to go back upstairs, to maybe come up with a game plan of my own to get me back to New York. But mid-way up the stairs, I stopped, the wood creaked loudly under my feet. I looked down the steps to the front door, lined up just perfectly with my eye line. It was still broken, splintered and leaning against its frame. I hopped back to the ground floor and reached out for the door knob, hesitantly picking up the other side of the door as I moved it out of the way. I propped it back into place once outside and headed for the barn. I was careful not to be seen, as the bright light above made my presence in the open space between the buildings painfully obvious. I sprinted the rest of the way and ducked into the shade that the barn provided. The door still swung lightly in the breeze, its hinges screamed out softly with each sway. I heard a metallic clank sound from inside, and I peeked my head in slowly. Zemo's back was facing me in the dark interior of the barn, he was hitting something with a small hammer on a work bench, but his body was blocking the view. A wave of relief washed over me once my eyes caught sight of him, I didn't know what I was going to do if I had to finish this alone.

"Zemo?" I whispered, over the clanking sound of hammer on metal, careful not to catch him off guard. He looked over his shoulder at me, the clanking stopped.

"You don't have to call me that, you know." he said, turning back to what he was doing with the hammer. "It sounds too proper." I walked inside and pulled the door closed, leaving it open just a crack.

"I'm sorry." I said. "Perhaps Colonel, then?" He chuckled, hitting the metal again.

"Helmut will do just fine." he suggested. I walked over to stand beside him, finally able to see what he was hitting. There was a small nail lodged into the lock of his handcuff, the side that previously trapped my own wrist was still open and unlocked. The nail was starting to bend slightly at the top from the force of the hammer's blows.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused and mildly concerned.

"This morning, I found a loose nail in the floorboards beside the bed. I used it on the lock. Your side was easy, but it got stuck on mine." he explained, trying to pry it out with his hand.

"You're trying to get it out by hammering it farther in?" I asked.

"I thought maybe it would break the lock." he said. "I was wrong." I laughed.

"You brought down the Avengers, but you can't escape handcuffs?" I joked. "Some mastermind, you are." He shot me a look of false irritation but followed it with a smile. "Need any help?" He looked down at his captured wrist, it was bleeding slightly from the metal cutting into his skin.

"If you would be so kind." he agreed. I reached out to the jammed cuff and looked it over; the rust of the old nail had locked it into place. I took the hammer from him and braced his wrist to the table. I slipped the claw side of the hammer under the nail and jerked it upwards. It stuck the first time, but on the second try I proved to be successful. He hissed out in pain as the hammer pulled the nail free, the lock of the cuff clicked sharply as it broke. I dropped the hammer back onto the table as he unlatched the cuff from his bloodied wrist, droplets of red falling to the dirt floor. I quickly took his wrist into my hands and transferred energy into him, just enough so that the bleeding would stop. It took a lot out of me, because as I said before, I'm certainly not a healer. He kept his eyes on my hands as his torn flesh slowly pulled itself back together, sealing the wound off just enough as the bleeding slowed. I suddenly felt the exhaustion, heavy on my shoulders, as my energy transferred into him. I felt lightheaded and braced myself on the table. His arms wrapped around my waist and kept me standing. He shifted my weight into one arm and held his uninjured wrist to me. "Take it back." he instructed. I shook my head.

"I'll be fine," I said, refusing his arm as I pushed it away. "I just need a minute." He half-carried me to the far side of the room and sat me on the ground, leaning my back and head against the wall. He sat down beside me, as I slowly regained what energy I had lost.

"You gave me too much," he said, almost angrily, as he looked down at his wrist. "You shouldn't have done that." No, he wasn't angry. Disappointed.

"I can't have you bleeding all over the place." I countered, finally catching up to my breath.

"You would care if I bled all over the place?" he asked with a laugh.

"I would care if you bled all over me, yes." I laughed back. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that his hand started to slide towards mine on the ground, but stopped just before they could touch. "You'll get dirt in your wound." I noted, nodding towards his wrist on the ground. He shrugged, but pulled his hand away, letting his arm rest against his knee. I closed my eyes, hoping that the dizziness would soon go away.

There was a low whirring sound in the distance, and at first I thought it was just my head, still buzzing and weak. But it soon got louder above our heads; a loud roar, like mechanical bird wings. The next thought in my head was that maybe my message to Wanda had gone through after all, that maybe Sam was here to save us, to fly me back to my sister's arms. I snapped back to Earth when I felt Helmut's hands on my arms, as he pushed me down to the ground. He stood up and ran to the door, it was swinging violently now as the helicopter passed by, impossibly low to the ground. He was quickly by my side again, offering his hand to pull me back up.

"Are you all right?" he asked, as he helped me sit back up against the wall. I nodded, aftershocks of panic still surging through me.

"Was it Ross?" I asked him. He nodded slowly, he eyes darted back to the swaying door.

"I think so. Or possibly the girl." he replied. I was trying to decipher whether he meant Sharon or Bridget. Or perhaps a woman I had never met before.

"The robot woman?" I asked carefully.

"Yes," he agreed. "The one with the soulless eyes." He turned back to me and took my hand into his. "You are weak, take it back." he said, nodding down to his wrist.

"No, I'm feeling better now." I replied. "If I took the energy back, it would hurt you more than the cut did." He shook his head, the grip on my hand tightened.

"I don't care, I've felt worse. Believe me."

"I do," I said. "Which is why I'm not going to make it worse. I'll recover, I've felt worse too."

I felt my mind going back to that place again, I wanted to stop it but part of me wanted to see it. The sick, morbid side was too strong, and I closed my eyes as the projector in my head switched on, and the memories flashed lucidly against my eyelids. There was Clint, and the little boy. They were about to die. I had seen Clint in trouble from a distance and was already on my way toward him. I didn't know how I was going to help, but I had to try. But then suddenly Pietro came out of nowhere, shooting through the rubble like a cannonball. Then the bullets rained down and I felt my heart tear itself out of me. I watched him fall, bloodied and dying. Clint was the least of my worries as I diverted my course and ran straight for Pietro. I didn't know that it wouldn't work, that I wasn't going to be able to heal him. I remembered taking his face into my hands as I poured almost every ounce of my energy into him. Our veins greyed and I watched as the wounds started to close, but only on the outside. On the inside he was still mangled beyond repair. He was already dead, I had simply reanimated a corpse. But in that moment it didn't matter, I was ready to die beside him. I had drained my life into a dead body, and I dropped down into his stiffening arms as my weak eyes closed, the screams of my fellow heroes echoing into my ears.

I woke up in the hospital days later, Wanda's hand wrapped tightly around mine, tubes and wires were hooked into my wrists and throat that struggled nonstop to keep me alive. Wanda was asleep, dark circles lined under her closed eyes. Clint had later told me that she hadn't left my side, not once since I had been in the hospital. I barely remember others visiting me, I was so medicated I can't remember all of them. I remember Steve smiling, but he looked sad when he wasn't looking at me. Natasha brought flowers, red orchids that sat by my bedside. I distinctly remember Stark, in a business suit, telling the nurses to send my costly medical bills to him. He kissed my forehead and mumbled something to himself like, "They're just kids." and he left.

I felt the energy slowly building back up, my head stopped swimming. I had been against the wall for a good hour or so, taking it easy while my companion stood watch over me, occasionally making trips to look out the door for the helicopter, or signs that Ross and his men had been there.

"Do you still think it was Ross? Or just a normal helicopter?" I asked, as he stood beside the door, discreetly looking out into the sunlight.

"I don't think a normal helicopter would have gotten that low, do you?" I shook my head.

"Probably not." I answered, slowly sitting up away from the wall. I ran my hand over my pocket, wanting so desperately to call her, to hear her voice. I was starting to think that I may never see Wanda again. That's when the cold reality hit me. So many feelings hit all at once, and I slipped back down to the wall again, quickly growing weak from my panic. "It is Ross." I quietly confirmed, my voice involuntarily shaking. Helmut turned to face me, a look of confusion on his face.

"How would you know?" he asked cautiously, slowly closing the door.

"I-I contacted my sister." I confessed. "I knew he was coming for her, I had to warn her." He had crossed the space between us before I could even react. His strong hands were wrapped tight around my wrists as he dropped down to the ground with me, I didn't even bother to struggle. His eyes were the worst, however. Enraged and violent, commanding my compliance.

"Why?" he snapped. "Do you know what you've done?!" He slammed me back against the wall by my wrists, just rough enough to bring back my dizziness. "Do you realize how much danger we're in?!"

"You're the one who brought me here. I was in danger the minute you called my name to Ross." I argued. He stared me down, chest heaving in anger. He threw my wrists down and stood back up, his back facing me as he clasped his hand over his eyes. "I was just trying to save who I have left." I cried, my own anger dissipating. "I thought you might understand." I thought he had started to calm down, as he walked back toward me. Without looking down at me, he raised his fist high, growling with rage as he sent a punch into the wall above me. I ducked down as dust and blood fell down onto me. He had sliced through his hand, adding a near matching wound to the one on his other wrist. He backed away and gripped his hand tight, causing more blood to ooze from the open cut. I immediately stood, ignoring my dizziness, to attend to the gash across his knuckles. He ripped his hand away from me, a stern resentment in his eyes. "Let me help." I offered. He turned away from me.

"You've done enough." he insisted. I felt anger overpower my weakness, a sudden burst of blind hatred surged. I turned him around, forced him to look at me. And I slapped him as hard as I possibly could. His head lurched to the side as my nails slashed harshly across his cheekbone. Blood trickled down from the scratches in soft little lines like teardrops. For a second I thought he was going to hit me back, and to be fair I probably deserved it. But instead, he dropped his eyes to the floor. "I can get to Wakanda on my own." he said quietly, his anger faded out like static.

"No, I promised you that I'd-"

"Get me there safely? You are not my mother, I can do it alone." he interrupted.

"Like you got out of that prison cell alone?" I snapped back. He knew I was right, but chose to ignore it.

"You are free now, and you are smart, you can find a way back home to your precious sister." He pointed to the swaying door.

"I can't just leave you like this." I said. "Not after risking so much, don't do that to me."

"Why not?" he countered, dropping his arm back to his side.

"Because it wouldn't be right!" I roared back. "I put too many people in danger because of you." He leaned in close to my face, our foreheads almost touching.

"You are lying to me." he accused, his voice raised. "There is no way you would risk so much for me. I am nothing to you."

"I'm not lying." I said, taking a step back.

"Then you aren't telling me the whole truth. What do you think you're going to get out of this? You're using me, like I used you. But for what? Hmm? Tell me." I shook my head.

" _That_ was a lie, I never used you. I think I have been pretty damn compliant to your needs for the past few days." He started pacing again, back and forth in front of me. He was trying to think of something to say, conflicted on the fine line between purposely hurting me and smoothing things over. He didn't go with the latter.

"Yes, _very_ compliant. You did everything I asked besides the _one_ thing I asked you not to do. Well done." He stopped pacing and sighed, rubbing both hands across his eyes and down his face, smearing the blood from his scratches. "I was stupid to bring a child into this." Right, I keep forgetting that I'm just a kid. The stupid rookie flying into danger without thinking. Even Stark had thought so.

"I'm sorry." I said. "But if you could have warned your family-" His eyes snapped onto me, cruel and malicious and I shut my mouth once I realized what I had done. I had far overstepped the boundary line this time. I was just trying to make a point, and boy, did I instantly regret it.

"No." he said coldly. "You don't get to bring them into this. They are not a bargaining chip for your petty argument." I immediately began reeling myself in. I was so sorry, but I didn't know where to begin to apologize. It's like what I had said to Wanda before I left, how I had convinced her to let me go.

_"If Stark had apologized to us, back then, would it have made a difference?"_

I knew bringing that up was going to hurt her, but I did said it so I could get my way. Just like I had used his family to try and make my point, to win the argument. I was cruel and selfish and I deserved what was about to happen. Zemo turned his back to me without another word. The guilt tearing through me was too much, and I ran out of the barn before my tears could hit the dirt floor. I headed back to the house, hoping that maybe giving him some space would help. Let him cool down before I apologized. Just as I passed the corner of the barn I felt the full force of someone slam into me. We both tumbled to the ground, hitting the dry grass hard as the person dropped down on top of me and held me down. I felt something shatter in my pocket, and I thought I had broken a bone until I realized it was probably my phone cracking. I looked up at the man, and while I didn't recognize his face, I definitely recognized his uniform. The dark military colors the JCTC soldiers wore, the agents sent out by Mr. Everett Ross for our capture. As he pinned my wrists to the ground, I wondered what was promised to his man for my head on a stick. A promotion perhaps? A pay raise? A fancy new uniform, or maybe the Everett Ross issued Medal of Honor; gold plated with his smug face etched into it, 'Your Business is My Business.' as the motto. Did he even know anything about us, or were we just an opportunity to him, a rung for him to climb on the food chain ladder.

My legs were then pinned down by his knees as the grip on my wrists tightened, preventing me from using my abilities on him. There were a set of handcuffs on one hip and a holstered pistol on the other. To him I only had two options; come along quietly and subserviently back to Mr. Ross, or come back in a pine box. My choice. I let out an angered wail as I struggled beneath him, violently trying to pry at least one hand out of his grip. I knew there had to be more of them, but if I could just touch this one and drain him, it might save my life. The next thing I heard was a sickening crack and the man collapsed onto the ground beside me, still half on top of me. Zemo stood above me, a metal pipe in his hands, bloody at one end. He tossed the piece of metal down as he pushed the man away from me and pulled me up. He grabbed my hand roughly with his, still bloody from the punch to the wall, and we ran from the barn. Past the house, as the helicopter could be heard again from somewhere behind us. He pulled me past the open field, towards the wooded area to the left of where we had arrived from.

There was the sound of strong people running behind us, bullets flying past. I felt the warm spray of blood on my face and wondered where one of us had been hit. We ducked down into the protective cover of the trees, quickly losing the armed men chasing after us. Clouds had rolled in above the trees and sent a chilling downpour through the leaves and onto our heads. I finally realized that it wasn't me who had been hit by the stray bullet, once I saw that Zemo's left shoulder was dripping with red. We zigzagged through the trees, going about a mile into the woods. Zemo suddenly dropped down into some dry brush, roughly pulling me with him to the ground. As soon as I hit the ground I struggled to regain my breath, my chest heaved violently from exhaustion.

"Let me see." I said, motioning to his shoulder. He shook his head, and lightly shoved my hands away when I tried to inspect the wound. I ignored his reluctance. "Seriously, take off your shirt." He sighed, slowly peeled it off and leaned forward so I could get a better look.

"Don't." he said. "Don't use them, not again." There's no way I could have used my abilities on this. The bullet had only winged him, taking just a small dent out of his upper shoulder, dangerously close to his neck. The rain had washed most of the blood away, and cleaned out the wound. While it wasn't a serious injury, it was too much for my weakened powers.

"You'll be fine." I confirmed. He nodded and swung his wet and bloodied shirt over his other shoulder. I reached back into my pocket and pulled out my broken phone. I chuckled at the stupidity of it all. I tossed it into the trees ahead of us. I saw Zemo's side smile out of the corner of my eye. "Is all this my fault?" I asked. He shrugged.

"They would have found us sooner or later." he said. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I should have just rotted in that prison cell."

"That wouldn't have worked." I said. "You had unfinished business." 

"That does not matter." he said seriously, and leaned back into the brush, careful not to hit his shoulder. We stayed under the trees until nightfall, and after not hearing anyone for a very long time, we headed back towards the house. His shoulder had started to bleed again, and he held his shirt over it as we emerged from the trees and back into the field. There was no one in sight as we made our way back up to the abandoned house. The door had been knocked back down and there was sign that someone had been through there. After a quick and thorough check of the entire house, we found it to be empty. We sat back down in the living room chairs, the storm clouds still blocked out the moon, so we were left in the darkness. Rain soaked and exhausted, we leaned back and took a sigh of relief. No one was chasing us for the time being, we relished in it. I closed my eyes, thankful for the rest. I heard his head turn towards me.

"What will you do once you're back with your sister?" he asked softly.

"I don't know." I replied. "I don't think I'd ever leave her side again, if I make it out of this alive."

"There must be something you want." he said.

"I just want my sister." I sighed, barely able to let the air out without my chest tightening. Either from how much I missed her, or just because I was tired. I wasn't sure which. 

"Only your sister? No one else?" I shook my head, but I don't think he could really see it.

"I don't think that most of the others are ready to even look at me. The ones who aren't still in hiding, that is." I said, referring to my teammates, current and otherwise.

"I wasn't talking about them." he murmured. My eyes were adjusting to the dark and I watched as he shifted in his chair. He dropped down to the floor and knelt down on his knees in front of me. He lightly pushed his waist between my knees, his hands snaking up to my hips. He pulled me to the edge of the chair, bringing me lower until his face was only inches from mine. He waited a few seconds, his way of asking for permission. I granted it by slowly pressing my lips to his. His hands moved up to my lower back as he pulled me the rest of the way down to straddle him on the floor. My hands slid across his bare shoulders, careful to avoid the tiny gash where he had been shot. My breathing was staggered as his lips glided across mine, his kiss slowly getting rougher with each breath. He broke away as he diverted his attention to my neck, softly biting his way down. "You've wanted this since Siberia, haven't you?" he whispered against my neck, flaring up the blood in my veins. I nodded as I dropped my head to rest on his shoulder. "You send very mixed signals."

"You're one to talk." I said, taking his head into my hands as I kissed him again. I felt everything fade away, everything I knew turned to static against my closed eyes. I felt Wanda slipping away, her hands reaching out to me, but they soon faded out. Pietro was still beating his fists against the door in my chest, screaming out for me, but he received no answer. Whatever worry I had was washing away, down the proverbial river and out of my mind. I was only focused on him and it was wrong but I didn't care. And as his hands gripped down hard on my hips, I found myself unable to focus on anything else.


	8. When the Static Fades, We All Must Go Home.

I felt his warm, ragged breath against my shoulder as he carried me up the creaky steps. My legs were tightly wrapped around his hips as he rushed and struggled to climb up the steps in the darkness. His right arm tightened around my back as he forced the bedroom door open with his left. I heard it slam behind me, the sharp sound echoed throughout the empty shell of a house. I felt the edge of the bed hit my back as he dropped down on top of me, my legs holding him firmly in place. His mouth found my neck again and as he lightly bit down I released a breath I didn't know I had been holding. My small gasp startled the silence around us, but quickly faded out into the dusty darkness. My arms loosened around his neck so I could bring up hands up to his face. I guided him from my neck back up to my lips. His arms snaked under my shoulders as he tried to move his way out of my legs, desperate for control. He whimpered lowly against my lips as he failed to escape, my legs still tight around his hips. I had him exactly where I wanted him, and he knew it. I had the mastermind in checkmate. And he surrendered.

 

***

 

"Miss Maximoff, please. This is not a good idea." Wanda ignored the android as she rushed to the apartment door, her phone in hand. Vision blocked her path. Five seconds ago he was beside the couch, now he had materialized just in front of the door, holding both arms out in front of him. Wanda tried to duck under an outstretched arm, but was captured around the waist by the other. Vision held her close to his vibranium chest, his hands on her shoulders. "I know how much you care for her, but this is not the way. You are a fugitive. And I am here to protect you. Mr. Stark would never allow-"

 "Mr. Stark does not know that you are here." Wanda snapped, still trying to make it past him to the door. She would not accept defeat. "If you told him a word, you would never see me again. I have to go. She is my sister. She needs me. Those men are going after her, and either you are going to help me, or I am going by myself." Wanda bargained with him, not giving him much of a choice. Vision gave a breathless, mechanical sigh, the light grip on her shoulders released as he moved away from the door.

 "Then I shall go with you. Your protection is my greatest concern, Miss Maximoff." he replied, holding a cold hand out to her. She accepted it, blinking back frustrated tears, as she followed the android's lead out the door.

 

***

 

"I think I should feel guilty." Helmut said, his hand traced down my bare shoulder. My head rested against his chest, my arm draped across his stomach.

"Why?" I asked, watching him trace patterns against my skin in the dim, purple morning light.

"I should be thinking about my family. I should stay alone, to keep their memory alive. I should not be here with you. But I am, and I hate myself. I am laying them to rest in my mind, to make room for you. I should feel guilty, but I don't." he whispered, as if he did not want the growing light around us to hear. "When I look at you, the guilt goes away. Does that make me a bad person?" Visions of my own loved ones flashed across my eyes. Hurt and angry expressions stretched across their far away, obscured faces, disappointed in me and my obscene actions. The high expectations they once had for me were crumbled into dust and as the static finally faded and cleared, and I had my wits about me again, I suddenly realized how horribly selfish I had been. But just as my partner in crime had mentioned, I didn't feel guilty either.

"No," I replied. "Because then I would be a bad person, too." I felt his eyes glance down at me, but the room was still too dark for him to read me. He whispered my name, calmly, like his voice were made of steel.

"If something were to happen to me..." he began. My heart sank. "I want you to run, and never look back. Can you promise me that?" I hesitated, panic coiled around my throat and kept me from speaking. I swallowed hard.

"I promise." I said, a crack on the final syllable, barely noticeable, a chip off the 'ise'.

"Because I can't watch someone else die," he said, his eyes on the ceiling. "I can't watch anyone else that I love...die." The arm I had draped around his stomach tightened, I cried against his shoulder. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, careful to stay away from the menacing glares of the people I loved, as I drifted into the abyss against my eyelids.

I awoke hours later, his arm resting lightly over my back, his chest rising and falling under my head. I moved him carefully as I sat up into the morning light. Droplets of blood oozed into the bed under his wounded shoulder, but not enough to be taken very seriously. As I got dressed I noticed dried red patches against my own skin, from being pressed against him for most of the night. I rubbed at them to flake the blood away, and went downstairs. I was careful not to creak any floorboards as I sneaked into the kitchen. I looked out of the window, above the sink, the golden light of day touching everything in sight outside. I leaned forward against the counter top and sighed, my hips still hurt from his grip, they were probably bruised. It's strange how you can find happiness in the most sinful of ways. I heard the steps creaking from behind me, but I didn't turn around.

"What are you looking at?" Helmut asked, entering the kitchen as he wrapped his arms around my waist, his chin resting against my shoulder.

"The light." I replied, as he kissed along my neck.

"You should run towards it," he said, softly against my goosebumped skin. "Awaken from this nightmare." I shook my head, letting another sigh go.

"What if the nightmare is out there?" I asked. "Maybe the dream is in here, with you." I felt him smirk against my neck.

"That's not how it works, my love."

"We could make it work." I said, my voice shook at the uncertainty of it all. He slowly let me go and turned away.

"Then we would live the rest of our lives as runaways." he said angrily. "Is that what you want? To live and die as a fugitive?" I spun around to face him, I felt the anger rise red into my face.

"I'm already a fugitive." I said. "What I did in Sokovia proved it. I can't let the most powerful man in New York know where I am, or he'll send me away. You of all people should know the power that Stark holds. I have to live in a box with my sister, or else they might find us. What kind of life is that, Helmut? Trapped in a cage like a dog? At least with you I can be free. I'll run for the rest of my life if it means that I get to run with you." He was about to speak, to say he was sorry, or otherwise, when the front door was kicked down. Armed men poured into the house, guns pointed at us.

"Outside. Now." a man said, a gun aimed between my eyes. We put our hands up as we were forced out of the house. I saw him on the grass, that awful American grin on his face, a look of pure righteous evil and victory. Everett Ross stood under a helicopter, the blades above him slowing down as they spun. Bridget was at his side, a wide, close-mouthed smile stretched the length of her face, her eyes lacked any emotion. Helmut and I were both handcuffed, and dropped down to our knees in front of Ross.

"Hello, my little fugitives." Ross smiled, teeth so white they stung my eyes. "Did you have a fun little vacation?" I could feel Bridget's cold, mechanical stare on me, but I kept my eyes on the ground. "You two are in so much trouble." Ross nearly purred with excitement.

"You should have known better than to use your phone, silly girl." Bridget scolded me. My stomach clenched. Ross's smile cracked with a chuckle as he pulled a handgun from his jacket pocket.

"I told you, Miss ___. What would happen to you if you were to disobey me." Ross cocked the gun. "I told you. I own you. I own everything. Your body, your soul, your mind...your heart." His smile twisted on the last word, grotesque and vile. Before I could blink, Ross had raised the gun towards Helmut, he pulled the trigger. The deafening sound of a bullet exploding from the chamber screamed in my ears, and before I could even cry out, the bullet had pierced the side of Helmut's head. He dropped to the ground in a flurry of blood, the thud of his body hitting the grass echoed through my senses. I screamed out in pain, though I felt none physical. I felt a million bullets fly through me, the sharpest knife in the world cutting away at my insides, slicing away until there was none of him left inside. I felt my voice break at the shrill cry that left my throat. Not again, oh, please not again. I couldn't watch this happen again.

"I didn't think you had the balls, sir." Bridget laughed. "Bravo." Ross's smirk turned back towards me. He knelt down to me, the gun against my forehead, still warm. I pressed my head against it, feeling it burn into me. Bullets had taken everything I had ever loved, bombs had vanquished everything else. I was ready to die, but I did not want to die at his hands. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But like he said, I did not have a choice. My rage glared holes into his eyes, and I saw him flinch, the gun gave the tiniest of shakes in his hand. Everett Ross gave a low growl, as his finger moved quickly to the trigger. A split second before my brains were painted onto the grass behind me, a burst of red illuminated around the gun. Ross screamed as the red crushed inward, breaking his hand into the metal of the gun. Flesh and metal merged together in a macabre, mangled mass of gore. Ross stumbled backwards onto the grass and Bridget screamed. The armed men drew their guns to the skies, as a familiar face caught my eye. Vision quickly dropped down from the air, my beautiful sister bridal style in his arms. She used her magic to shatter the guns into pieces, bringing the men and Bridget into the ground to their waists.

"Wanda!" I cried out, letting the tears pour. I felt my cuffs break behind me as Wanda hit the ground. But I ignored her, only for a moment longer. I was on Ross in an instant, my hands around his skinny throat. I heard Wanda scream for me to stop, but it was too late. I was gone. I felt the negative take me over, the grey, damp energy I had learned to avoid. I embraced it. I drained him, every ounce of life he held, I pulled it all inside my body. I watched in satisfying horror as his skin stretched over bone as he rapidly aged in front of my eyes. He decayed and rotted until his bones powdered into dust, blowing away in the wind. He left behind only a suit, an expensive Italian suit spread out on the ground. I released my grip as the red took over my body, pulling me off of him. Wanda manipulated my body like a puppet, until I was forced onto my back on the grass. I saw the tears in her eyes, we had always promised to never use our abilities on each other. I made her lie. I let go, I gave in to the numbness taking over. The red went away, and Wanda's arms replaced it. She cradled me against her chest, her tears stung my cheeks.

"My sweet sister, I am so sorry. You are safe now, you are safe with me." I fell asleep to her whispers, her promises of home, I fell into the abyss one last time.

 

***

 

In the blackness, I heard a beep. And then another. They lulled me awake, my eyes hurt to open them. I looked down to see myself connected to machines and tubes, all too familiar sights. I turned to see Wanda at my side, as always. She was crying, her hands clasped around mine as she called out for a doctor. Once I was checked, and deemed okay, Wanda returned, hope in her eyes.

"There is someone here to see you, he has been waiting for a very long time." she said, leaving as I sat up in bed. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him, I felt death's icy grip on my heart, a warning of what could have been, of what I had almost lost. His head was bandaged on the side, a simple wing of the bullet, nothing more. His other wounds were patched, blood trickled through the white cloth. My eyes burned with tears as I carefully took him by the face and pressed my lips against his.

"Oh, my darling. I thought you were dead." I stuttered. Helmut smiled.

"Ross is a terrible shot." he laughed lowly. I brushed my thumb across his jaw, feeling him, making sure he was real. "I have made a deal with Stark, if you will have me."

"What kind of deal?" I asked.

"I have given over all information about Stark's parents, in exchange for our freedom. You are in his hospital right now." Helmut explained. "He has given you an honorable discharge from the Avengers, you are retired. And...if you choose, you may come back to Sokovia, with me." I didn't even have to think it over.

"Of course." I said, breathless. "I would run forever with you." He took my hands into his, he swallowed hard, his eyes locked with mine.

"No more running, my love. We are free."

"What about Wanda?" I asked, my concerns getting the better of me. "Wanda too." he promised. "Vision will be watching over us, Stark only wants the best for you both, he needed much more convincing with me."

"Are we really free?" I asked in disbelief. "Are we going home?" Helmut smiled and kissed me again.

"Yes," he sighed in content. "We are going home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will miss this story so much, but it must come to an end. Thank you all very much for all of your support! I hope you enjoyed your journey with the Colonel as much as I did.
> 
> -A


	9. PART II: Post-Berlin

I woke up every morning to the sound of birds at my window. Eurasian Jays, they have a very distinct cry; garbled and loud, they squawk out like old crone witches gathered around a fire. My mother used to tell me old Sokovian folktales about the crones, how they would trick ignorant children into coming into their houses, lured with promises of sweet candy and other sugary delights, and then they would be eaten up until nothing was left, no blood, no skin, no bones. There were many stories my mother would tell me; a cautionary tale of a princess who kissed an ugly toad that was supposed to turn into a prince, but instead turned into a bandit who kidnapped her and held her ransom. Or the one about the wolf who stalked the little boy and girl through the woods, only the little girl escaped, able to run away as the boy was chewed and chomped. Tales such as these were told to children for a reason, so that when they become adults and realize their true meanings, perhaps they will make the right decisions when they are presented. I should have listened more to my mother.

I found it to be annoying at first, the Jays, especially since I was waking up in a new house that I wasn't yet familiar with, and those tiny pink and blue crone witches screaming into my ears every morning gave me headaches. Everything about the cabin was different from home. I wasn't used to being so far away from my sister, I hadn't really known a life without her. The first six years my life were spent with my parents, until the bombs hit Sokovia and killed them. I don't really remember much about them, only my mother's stories and my father's deep, booming laughter. I had been with Wanda and Pietro ever since, until he was taken away from me too. Then all I had was Wanda, Now, I was separated from my sister, living in a cabin that was as unfamiliar to me as it could be. The cabin was out in the woods, in an undisclosed location that only I and one other knew about. It was charming, one story, green metal roof and walls made up of long tree logs. The kind of cabin you would read about in the old folktales, in the middle of a forest of tall green pines, far far away from civilization. You could scream and scream and no one would hear you, a beautiful sanctuary of isolation. A perfect location for two wanted criminals.

After I awoke in the hospital, filled with the familiar feeling of being wired to machines with tubes connected all around me, I was reminded of what I had done. Wanda and a still injured Helmut were ushered away to make room for a much stronger presence. I thought that the Joint Counter Terrorism Centre breathing down my neck had been stressful, I had not yet been introduced to the fury that was an angry Tony Stark. He marched in like he owned the place (he did), and told me what I then remembered as a dream, was actually true, I had killed Everett Ross after watching him blow a hole in the side of my partner in crime's head. I had drained the very life out of him with my sorrowful abilities. Abysmal Dissociation, the temporary or permanent numbing of one's life force. I am capable of killing the mind, taking away the will to live, leaving trails of depression and sorrow in my path, as Everett Ross himself had put it, as he read over my file back when all this had began, on the plane that took me to Berlin, the plane that brought me one step closer to where I am now, facing Hell head on, but I'm getting far too ahead of myself.

Tony had given me two options, the dark look in his already dark eyes had told me that he was _not_ playing games. He scolded me as if I were a child, and I was going to receive my punishment. I could either A, give up Zemo and myself and be carted away to the prison where Wanda and the others had been held, the prison on the seas, where I would never get out, or see my dear sister or Helmut ever again. Or, there was option B, a temporary or permanent removal from the Avengers roster, my choice. I could run away with Zemo and hide out for as long as I needed or wanted. I could come back and rejoin the team at any time, or stay off the roster entirely, a full retirement. He only asked- no...he forcefully told me that I could come back, as long as he never saw Zemo ever again. He was grateful to Zemo, for finally giving him the closure he needed about the deaths of his parents, but never wanted to lay eyes on him ever again, and if I were ever to involve Zemo with the Avengers, I would be banned for life, and given a harsh prison sentence to boot. I truly believe that Tony Stark was only trying to scare me, to keep me away from the Avengers forever. I think he was afraid of more kids getting hurt, but I don't really know for sure. But as I laid in that hospital bed, tubes in my arms and machines beeping in time with my heartbeat, I hastily took option B. The thought of getting to spend a quiet and peaceful life with Helmut was too good to pass up, but even peace has its price, I am afraid to say.

I healed up in the hospital, Tony had once again paid every medical bill I had, which cost more money than I had ever seen in my entire life. Once I had my strength back I was able to finally leave the hospital, after only a two week stay. Then came the hardest thing I have ever done. I had to say goodbye to my dear Wanda. I didn't quite realize just how long I would be away from her. The distance would make me suffer greatly. But this was for her own good, leaving her like I did. I needed to escape, I was still wanted by the JCTC for killing Ross, and leaving New York would get them off of her trail. She was safe now, with Vision, and I knew in my heart that he would protect her, that I wouldn't have to worry. But I did, every day. I couldn't see her, I couldn't contact her. But I knew that she was safe at the compound, she had a guardian watching over her.

From there, I left with Helmut to the undisclosed location where we set up a happy little home in the cabin, far away from the dangers of the War caused by the Avengers, partially caused by my own actions. But, if I had known then what I know now, I would have stayed, with Wanda, with the Avengers, in the safety of New York City. Even with the JCTC still gunning after me, they were no match to what I had to face out in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been nearly two years since the beginning of Stockholm Syndrome and I wanted to celebrate by re-animating it with a sequel. Many people asked me to write a part II after the last story ended, and I missed this series a lot and realized that there is much more story that can be told. You and Zemo have a lot more adventures on the horizon. ;)
> 
> (Also, I really regret killing Everett in the first part of the series. He really redeemed himself in Black Panther and he was so much fun to write, lol -RIP My Version of Ross.-)


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